A Mother's Touch
by NightinGaleWings26
Summary: Takes place after Civil War. Steve and his band of followers are unsure of what to do with the Winter Soldier as his bionic arm is in desperate need of attention. Feeling out of place with the team, Bucky agrees to meet a retired S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and engineer tucked away in Vermont. Reluctant, he hopes they may have some answers, but might get more than he bargained for.
1. Merging

Chapter 1

The thunder rumbled low and menacing as rain poured from the skies and smacked the window before him. His breath misted against it steadily, fogging his view. His eyes were filled with nothing but the raindrops tainting the window and blurring together, their paths quick and fleeting. _Like your memories._ He grimaced, burying the thought. He didn't want to think right now. His body was constantly strained as it struggled to hold onto something, anything of what remained of him. The past him. But in this moment, he just let himself become memorized by the storm around him, the downpour a roar in his ears.

" _You can't be serious!_ ," a voice hissed in annoyance. The hushed tone pierced through the roaring in his ears, snapping him out of his trance. Even when he let his mind go still, his body never allowed him peace for long. His instincts were too sharp to allow himself to be completely relaxed. In fact he couldn't ever remember being in a tranquil state since….since he'd become _**this**_ _._ The fingers on his right arm curled into a fist as his body tensed, all senses alert and prickling as he focused in on the voice that had spoken. It was coming from the room across the narrow hall, where his fate was being decided.

He didn't blame the people near him for their fear and the looks of uneasiness whenever he was around. The slight shifts their bodies made to shield themselves from him, the way their eyes never met his gaze. There was no erasing the fact that at one point in his life, he'd been a killer. _**Was**_ a killer. How could they trust someone with so much strength and yet no control? Was he really even human? He was more machine than man and it hadn't taken long for one man to figure out how he worked. _How to manipulate him._ Unwillingly his eyes slid down to glance at what was left of his left arm. The metal gleamed in the low lighting, reminding him it haunted him no matter where he went; even in the darkness it followed.

More voices began mumbling in the room, their tones tense as they searched for a solution. One voice he recognized well, spoke up. "I just can't see how this fixes anything. So what? You manage to subdue him now, but what about later? If we come at this head on, we can help him. I didn't risk the lives of others or myself to have it come to this. I know he's unsteady. _But I see him_. I see glimpses of the man he used to be. I have to believe he can recreate a part of himself if he's given the chance. He's willing to accept help. Someone has to have some knowledge on that kind of technology-"

"Yes! There are plenty of people Steve! But who's gonna have the guts to even get near him?!" _Natasha._ Her voice was sharp and firm. " Engineers may be bold and a bit risky at times but they're not stupid enough to put themselves in that kind of danger. They _know_ about him. We're talking about someone who goes in and out of remembering who they are." Her voice dropped lower as she growled the last part. " May I remind that one of those pasts includes a highly trained assassin and killer. You don't just shed that part of you away. I would know," She said quietly, "…. It becomes ingrained."

 _Ingrained._ His jaw twitched. She was right. Even now as he stood in the hallway, those killer instincts were on high alert, always welling just underneath the surface, ready to strike. His eyes had already prowled over every evacuation route and he watched each one in intervals. He knew that around the corner at the end of the hall a guard waited. If he took the elevator, at each stop there were multiple guards patrolling, camera's watching. He knew down to the exact second how long it would take to reach any of them and slit their throats, their heartbeats throbbing against his knife. It currently sat tucked away on his right hip. The fingers on his right arm twitched. _Or he could just crush their skulls with nothing but the pressure of his fingers._ He shivered, the violent thought leaving as soon as it came. Natasha was wrong. It wasn't just ingrained. It was a permanent part of him. He couldn't even dream of reversing the effects. He would never know life without this bionic arm or the guilt he carried inside of him.

Natasha's slow exhale brought him back to the present. "Steve….I'm sorry, it's just-"

He cut her off, his voice quiet, "-I understand." Bucky could practically see her shifting uncomfortably with the rest of the room, trying to find something comforting to finish with. Why she cared, he didn't know. She wasn't the touchy-feely type. But something told him this mattered to her. She'd never really chosen a side when it had come down to it. She'd let Steve and him go when they had to, against Stark.

"I'm not sure what more we can do Cap." Bucky's eye twitched ever so slightly. The voice belonged to Sam Wilson or otherwise the obnoxious flying sidekick to Captain America. Sam irked Bucky in more ways than one. Unlike most, Sam didn't seem intimidated by him. Rather he felt the need to provoke him to see just how far he could go with his antics before having Bucky snap. And some odd part of Bucky also argued that back in the day, he'd been a much better pair with Captain America…..he didn't remember much of the old Bucky Barnes, but he'd heard he was charming.

Sam went on,"You've proven to us his worth as a friend and fellow comrade. I'm not doubting your opinion of him. But who would we find to take a look at him? We're technically labeled fugitives at the moment, in case anyone forgot..." Bucky exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. For what it was worth, Sam was at least loyal. Another voice joined in, this time the archerer. "The best and most trustworthy engineers either work for Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D….which is still basically Stark." Someone must have given Barton a quizzical look, because he further explained. "Stark may like to 'borrow' the best from S.H.I.E.L.D…..Anyway, the point is, we won't find someone willing to help here. Stark has his mind made up about the Soldier."

"Is there someone from the outside? Anyone retired? On vacation?" Sam tried. No one answered, the tension beginning to settle thicker in their silences.

Clint cut the silence this time, his voice quiet and contemplative. "I may know someone." The Widow growled instantly. "Barton…"

"No I'm serious this time! They did good work back in the day. Well, about seven years ago." Natasha groaned. "They resigned for personal reasons. But I know they never gave up their work even after they left. They weren't just good, they were incredible. Worked in all kinds of engineering-electrical, mechanical, chemical-you name it. Kid was a real up and coming genius. Hell, half the shit that keeps me safe, they designed. They worked under Stark himself." As if to assure them he added, "But I'm pretty sure she hasn't pledged her complete allegiance to him. I mean, she still lets me visit."

"So we're talking about a chick fixing up ole Sunshine? Better send me then, he's got to work on his flirting skills if we want her help." Sam chuckled, clearly thinking he was clever or trying to lighten up the mood. Another silence settled over the group until finally Steve spoke up once more. "How do we reach her? And how do we know we can trust her?"

Bucky could almost sense the slow smile spreading across Clint's face. "You leave the contacting to me, Cap. As for trust, I think she's got a good heart, not that it matters much anymore these days but...who else have we got?"

No one argued. There wasn't anyone else. Bucky tensed, waiting for Steve to give the word. He heard him intake a breath and then sight it out. "I want him….well again. We all do. Barton, give me what you have on her, I wanna know what we're getting into before it's official."

Bucky turned away from the room to face the window again. He knew a decision had been made, official or not. A decision he had no part in...and no right to have a part in. He splayed the fingers of his human arm out before him and then tried to imagine the fingers of his metal arm beside them. He wished they could be identical, the metal replaced for flesh. But he wasn't fully human anymore and he had to know what made this part of him tick. Who the past James Buchanan Barnes had been and then-determine what part of him would last in this internal struggle. Bucky Barnes, friend and comrade of The Captain or the Winter Soldier, a lone wolf assassin. He couldn't reverse time. Couldn't change the sins he'd committed. But he'd be damned if he continued to let HYDRA haunt him.

He turned to the window once more, the rain still heavy, the clouds thick and dark across the sky. He watched again as the drops hit the glass and then spiraled down, merging, then dripping and spiraling down again. An endless cycle in nature and yet it wasn't predictable. Never knowing the exact moment they'd merge. With his good hand, he reached out and touched the glass where a raindrop had reached the end of its journey. He could feel the coolness of the surface, the hum of rain hitting glass. He closed his eyes and let the downpour drown out his thoughts once more.


	2. Send Off

Chapter 2

Clint walked side by side with the silent Soldier in the busy streets of Philadelphia, the hustle and bustle of the city leaving the two completely unnoticed by the crowds. They looked like tourists, with maps of the city clutched in their hands and Bucky with a backpack casually slung over one shoulder. He really loved that baseball cap disguise. God, he was so much like Steve, bless him. Now recently being named fugitives (not that this was new to him, he'd always walked that line), their team decided to lay low. Philly seemed like a good choice, considering that they'd already made 'appearances' in several other big named cities.

Touching the state of New York was a big No-No at the moment. And they'd be stupid to be in DC. So why the hell not, Philly it was, full of historical sights and knowledge and blah, blah, blah. It was lame and he was bored out of his skull so even an outing with Sunshine (Clint was fond of Sam's nickname for him), was thrilling. Though for the Captain, Philadelphia was perfect-he could get back in touch with his era! -Oh wait, a little too far back in history. Clint chuckled to himself. He at least found his jokes amusing.

Barnes eyed him suspiciously clearly trying to understand what was suddenly so funny. Clint waved him off and Barnes dismissed it easily, probably not really caring in the first place. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier-whatever you wanted to call him-wasn't much of a talker, which Clint could respect. He assumed that HYDRA was pretty effective when it came to numbing people. Only heartless people could commit the kind of cruelty they had exhibited. Being around Barnes was sobering for him when he realized just how much the guy had lost. Memories, emotions, friends and family and control-all of it swiped away from him. And then to come back from a near death experience only to be thrown into an era that was no longer his and with a mind that was no longer his own.

Clint's spine shivered at the chilling realizations and once again, Bucky eyed him. He pulled his jacket around him tighter and hunched his shoulders, pretending that a breeze had given him a chill. Which would have been convincing if it didn't happen to be the middle of summer. He figured the guy didn't give a shit anyway. The assassin had already written him off in most senses as non threatening. As long as he didn't make any sharp, sudden movements, he was safe from sudden impalement.

Clint's eyes scanned the street names and signs as they got closer to their designation. He veered them left down a side street that lead them away from the central crowds and sights. Each turn thereafter brought them further and further into the more abandoned parts of the city. The buildings became run down and the people became scarce the more they walked. Bucky's eyes had become slits as he stared down the few pedestrians straight in the eyes, daring them to make a move. He even glared down an elderly lady pushing a grocery cart. The guy didn't take chances, though Clint had to admit he'd laughed to himself about the old lady, trying to visualize her suddenly whipping out a pistol and holding them at gunpoint. Even funnier was the thought of the Winter Soldier battling with a grandma...okay he really had to stop.

Not wanting to pick a fight with the locals, Clint took the chance of nudging Barnes in the shoulder. The slight nudge had him whipping his head around, his cold blue eyes boring into Clint's forehead. Clint threw his hands up automatically in a surrendering pose. "Easy! I know 'relax' isn't really in your vocabulary-" The glare continued, "-for obvious reasons. But let's not draw attention. Around here you keep your head down and you don't look at anybody unless you wanna fight." When Bucky looked like he was considering the option amusing, Clint added, " _Which we don't want._ Anyways, we're here."

Barnes turned with Clint to examine their destination. It was an old mechanic's garage, it's residents far gone as seen by the lack of care. The sign's paint at top of the building was peeling so badly that one could barely read, ' _Stan's Auto-Repair Shop!'_ The windows were smashed in, the sides of the building covered in graffiti, with symbols of different gangs claiming the shop as their territory and an occasional well-placed phallic drawing. Classy.

"Are we supposed to be meeting someone here?" Bucky frowned at the shambles before him. It was the first time he'd spoken since they'd left together and it surprised Clint a bit to hear his voice. Sure he was an assassin and he could use his scary voice whenever he wanted, but his speaking voice was actually quite subtle and soft. Clint glanced back at the building and sighed. His contacts were always a bit on the sketchy side, hence why they were dragged out to the ghetto. But he hoped they had delivered on their promise.

"Not exactly. Follow me." Clint walked up to a door that was in between the large garage openings which looked bolted shut at the moment. He hoped the door wasn't locked as well, not that he couldn't kick it in….the door knob slid easily to the right. Lucky him, his contacts weren't complete idiots. He checked over his shoulder to find Barnes right behind him, knife drawn, peering into the dark room before them. As long as the knife didn't end up in him, he was fine. The place kinda gave him the creeps.

Everything was coated with a thick layer of dust. The place had definitely been vacant for awhile. Without hesitation, Bucky stepped around him, knife close and ready as he walked the room. Clint let him do his thing as he scanned the room for his 'little' present. His eyes locked on a canvas across the room, covering a familiar shape. Clint reached into his pocket and his hands closed around a pair of keys.

Just for fun, he whipped them out of his pockets and let 'em fly directly at the assassin's back. Without even turning, the Soldier's fingers snatched the keys out of the air. Slowly the assassin turned to look at him, his eyes seeming to say, " _Try that again and I'll reconsider letting you live."_ Clint replied with a shit-eating grin.

"I don't think I startled you too much, considering you're ready for anything. Oh and by the way-those are yours to keep. A little present before you head out."

Bucky finally examined what he had clenched his hand. He frowned, eyeing the keys curiously, his eyes showing his confusion. "What are these...for?" he questioned quietly.

Clint nodded to the canvas across the room and Bucky followed with his eyes. He glanced back at Clint once more, with the expression of a toddler asking a parent for permission to go have fun. He had to laugh just a little at all the precautions he took."Ahh come on, you don't trust me? It's a gift, not a trick. Here, I'll do the unwrapping." He walked over to it and ripped off the canvas.

Honestly, Clint was jealous. It had taken his breath away the moment the canvas had came off. A ' _Holy shit!'_ may have escaped under his breath as well. The metal gleamed and the pitch black paint was glinting in the low lighting. They'd gone all out in getting something nice-he didn't even care how they'd gotten it. He was having a proud moment taking it all in. A 2013 Harley-Davidson FXSB Breakout, a Softail model. He let out a low whistle and turned to see if the Soldier approved.

Bucky confidently walked up to it this time, his eyes scanning over every detail of the motorcycle. His hand slowly ran over the leather seat and then brushed over the clutch. He walked around it and crouched, examining the inner workings and engine. When he was satisfied, he stood up and Clint noticed the smallest tilt of his lips. It was the closest to a smile you would get from the Winter Soldier.

"Well, what do you think? Will it work for you? I remember you stealing a ride similar to this at one point-figured you'd enjoy recreating the memory."

Bucky's eyes clouded in that moment, as if he were struggling to remember something. _Shit._ He hoped he'd hadn't said the wrong thing. Memories weren't exactly Bucky's strong suit.

"Thank you."

Clint went still as their eyes met. He looked so grateful, his eyes soft and welling with emotion, as if he was trying to define the feeling he couldn't quite grasp. They transformed his face into a younger version of himself, perhaps the old Bucky Barnes that Steve had been friends with years ago. Clint offered him a small smile.

"Sure thing, bud. We wanted you to travel in style, ya know? Hey listen, everything you need is in that bag of yours. Maps, all the places you can make pit stops undetected and of course, your destination. So what do you say, we bust these doors open and let you ride-sound good?"

Bucky's eyes had reversed back to their piercing gaze. "Why do you trust her?" he asked simply. He always had a way of catching Clint off guard. He sighed and looked up, somehow trying to search for the right words. "I find that people-people who have experienced life-changing pain, are forced to grow and protect themselves at a much faster pace. Life just threw them a curveball they didn't see coming. But they adapt and whether or not they let it define them, they come to a realization about how they want to live the rest of their life. They find purpose."

Clint pulled his eyes away from the ceiling and stared at the floor instead. "I trust her because her purpose is good intentioned. Her help doesn't come with a price," he finished quietly. He could feel the Soldier's eyes scouring over him, trying to pry and find the truth in his words.

"I believe you," he said finally, and Clint let go of the breath he'd been holding in. He needed Bucky to trust him on this one. They all did.

"You ready then?" Bucky simply nodded in reply. Clint grinned once more. "Alright, let's get this baby revved up and ready to go!"

They worked together to unlock the big garage doors. They opened up easy enough and the two realized the sky was going dark as the sun began to set over the city. Bucky smoothly swung a leg over the side of the bike and clicked the keys into the ignition. Suddenly the old garage was reverberating with the sounds of the bike's powerful engine. Bucky seemed to enjoy it because he was just allowing that small smile to creep back on his lips.

It was odd for Clint to be here with him during the send off. It would have seemed more appropriate that Bucky and Steve be together. But within the time of their small journey here, he was glad he'd come along. He was starting to understand more of the Soldier's silent ways and he'd never felt more sure this was what they needed to do. He had hope that one day, HYDRA would be a distant memory for Bucky.

The engine was purring and begging to be free out on the road. Clint locked eyes with his silent friend and nodded. Bucky did the same. With that he was off, just a flash of gleaming metal. _Kinda like his arm_ …..huh, how perfect. Clint locked up the garage before heading out, not that it would do much, but he felt it right. He looked up at the orange sky and took a deep breath.

"Take care of him," he whispered to no one, and with that he headed back.


	3. Introductions

Chapter 3

 _Dorset, Vermont_. Bucky eyed the little town circled with a bright red marker. That's where they were sending him. Translation: _middle of nowhere_. He huffed in annoyance and folded up his map, sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans. It was fair enough, considering his reputation and how badly he needed to be out of the public eye. But more interesting to him was why this particular woman chose Dorset, Vermont. What could she be hiding from in this little town? Clint hadn't said much about her. Steve said he trusted the situation. She was an engineer, that's what was most important. Someone who might be willing to figure out the tangled mess within in his arm and hopefully, get rid of it.

He'd done some of his own research on her. She'd resigned from S.H.I.E.L.D seven years ago for "emergency and personal reasons," or at least that's what her file had said. She was an incredibly brilliant woman, degrees and Phd's to boot. She was certainly qualified enough to be looking at him. But there were no behaviors or relations to be noted. Just facts. Her height, 5'8. Hair color, dark brown. Eye color, hazel. Eyesight, 20/20….he could rattle on.

But he had just one hint into her past. _Partner: Sayid Harjo, Deceased 2009_. Seven years ago, the year she resigned. Was overwhelming grief the cause? Maybe. But the answers would come when he met her. He didn't like being so ill informed on a person before meeting them, because it went against every fiber in his being. Once an assassin, always an assassin. You always knew your target before the mission.

But he had to stop viewing her as a target. She was the only option he had and he could be stuck with this woman for quite some time, depending on how complicated the fix became. No one had dared to touch it yet, his metal arm. Sure, many were curious, fascinated even, but he didn't want just anyone investigating it. He still flinched when people brushed up against it, remembering the last time someone had fiddled with his insides. He glanced down at it, a cheap prosthetic attached to it at the moment. It was trying to be a flesh color but it was terribly off in comparison to his skin tone. But it didn't matter. After the unfortunate event of Stark ripping most of it to pieces, it was given a temporary fix until it could be meddled with further. Sometimes he wished that Stark had pulled the whole thing clean off. Of course that would have killed him, seeing how deeply embedded the work was. But a dark thought haunted him. " _Death would have been better."_ He wasn't a hero like the other avengers. He wasn't a martyr. He was a killer, a monster of HYDRA and just the shell of James Buchanan. And why exist being only a shell of your past self? That's who Steve remembered-James, not the Winter Soldier.

He took a deep breath and released it. He struggled not to follow the logic of that dark thought. He'd heard a thousand times how the universe worked in mysterious ways. If he was alive now, there was something to live for because the universe had decided to spare him. It really knew how to pick 'em.

He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a granola bar, devouring it in two bites and finishing it with a swig of water. He eyed the pedestrians at the gas station, all minding their own business. A couple people had glanced his way, mostly to check out his ride, which annoyed him to no end. The bike was nice, a familiar source of transportation and a great thrill. But it drew attention which worried him at first until he noticed that all bikers got looks. People were apparently fascinated with them. Some things never changed-a man on a bike was still cool. He'd been passed earlier by a younger kid on his crotch rocket. The guy had tried to get him into racing but when Bucky didn't respond, he was given the middle finger before the kid sped off. He'd wanted to catch up and knock the kid clean off his ride but unfortunately he was trying to stay undetected.

Digging into his pocket he found his flip phone and glanced at the time. _12:07._ Only an hour left before he arrived-if everything went according to plan. He'd taken all back roads to avoid being seen, which had prolonged his journey for an obscene amount of time. But now he was almost there. He swiped a leg over the bike and started it, revving up the engine. _Well, I guess it's time to meet Mrs. Harjo._

Her driveway must have been a mile long. When Bucky had pulled up to her address, marked only by a stake and a hand painted sign, he'd pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the bike. The driveway winded off into the woods and he couldn't see how far it went. He wasn't surprised that an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agent was stowed away in a remote house surrounded by forest-which he was sure she knew every inch of. And while he knew that riding up the driveway would be the polite thing to do, he wanted to scope the area for himself first, like any good ex-assassin would do. And besides riding the bike on gravel was a pain in the ass. He would just explain his quiet arrival to her later. So he began to walk. To clarify, he did not find a mile to be a long walk but he may have found it annoying in the 90 degree heat with a long sleeve shirt on. He hated to wear anything less because it didn't cover his arm which was even more disturbing to him with the "butt-ugly" prosthetic they'd replaced it with. As Natasha had called it, along with a few other choice descriptions. But despite the sweat and the heat, he walked it and within 10 minutes, reached the mysterious house of the Harjo's.

As he turned around the final bend he came upon a small cottage, surrounded by gardens of tall sunflowers which grew so high, they covered the front windows. The house was small and he guessed that others would find it "cozy" tucked back into the woods and sunflowers. Beside it on the left, was a garage with two doors and one of them was left open. He could see that lights had been left on and an old Toyota Landcruiser sat in the driveway, letting him know someone should be home. He thought about ringing the doorbell but his curiosity drew him to the garage first. He walked silently on the gravel as he approached and peered in.

The garage was bigger than it appeared and clearly not being used to host their cars. The half that he walked into had shelves stocked with random appliances, tools, files and boxes, filling every inch of shelf space. He couldn't see past the shelves but could sense that it opened up on the other half. He walked straight back and then took a slow left. This half was a work space which had been turned into a makeshift lab. In the center of the room, dominating most of the space was an island with a wooden countertop. Up against the wall was a longer counter with a computer and a screen projected onto the wall. It was currently running a diagnosis for some sort of machine. He stepped closer, squinting at the image as he tried to figure out what it was. A weapon? A tool? Or was it a-

He froze as he heard the click and felt the cool metal pressed against his spine.

"I swear to God, you move a muscle and I'll cripple you for life."

Bucky cursed under his breath. He hadn't felt threatened enough to be alert and listening for an intruder. He had to fight hard against his coiling muscles, ready to jump into defense mode. He grit his teeth and released a breath, while slowly putting his arms up, away from his body. She, as he'd identified by the voice, pressed the gun further between his shoulder blades.

"First, you're gonna tell me who the hell you are. And then you better have a good excuse for being in my garage."

Several thoughts raced through his mind. One, this must be Mrs. Harjo. Two, should he move quick, pin her down and then talk? Or three, would she fight too hard to hear him talk? Would she even listen to him now? The gun pressed to his spine told him she was pretty pissed and if his story didn't match with what she was looking for…..He didn't want to do this the hard way.

"James Buchanan Barnes. Born March 10, 1917." He paused, wondering how much he should reveal. "Some have referred to me as the Winter Soldier. I was sent here by Clint Barton to look for Mrs. Har-"

His breath suddenly hitched in his throat and he choked as he tried to force the rest of the words out. His hands flew to his neck, trying to feel what had impaired him. He gasped for more air but could only succeed with small, short gasps. What the hell was happening to him? He shook his head but stumbled forward as his vision began to swim. He growled in frustration as his eyesight began to worsen by the second. Before he could stop it, he pitched forward and leaned heavily against the work table, slowly being brought to his knees. That's when the pain kicked in, like a thousand tiny needles were being injected under his skin.

"What did...you...do?" He knew he was yelling or trying to, but his voice sounded so far away to his own ears, as if he were underwater. As his vision turned black, the last thing he thought was that if this was Mrs. Harjo, he was gonna kill her when he woke up.

This time he was leaned back in the chair, right after one of the many brainwashes HYDRA would give him if he ever "malfunctioned." The mouth guard they gave him hung loosely in his mouth as his saliva dripped onto his chest. His eyelids fluttered between opened and closed as he struggled to regain his breath and slow his heartbeat. The cool metal of the chair felt like ice on his skin and his whole body still quivered from the extraction of his memories. In these dreams, Bucky stood on the side, watching himself experience the pain all over again. Sometimes he experienced the dream in first person, but this time he watched from a distance as the doctor beside him scribbled something onto his clipboard. He peered over the rim of his glasses at Winter Soldier, watching him recover.

"Asset, respond. Who are you?" He watched himself lean forward and spit the mouth guard out. "HYDRA agent, 1017."

"Good. Do you know why you're here?"

"I serve HYDRA as the Asset. I exist to exterminate and purify."

"Do you remember what we discussed prior to this procedure."

"No, sir."

"Does the name Steve Rogers mean anything to you?"

"No. Is he my next mission?

"No, he's no concern at the moment. Carry on. Drink this first."

He handed Bucky a small cup of fluid. He still remembered the bitter taste on his tongue as he watched himself slug it back. He never knew what it was they gave him, but it always drained him of energy afterward. The doctor nodded in approval and tucked his clipboard away.

"Your handler will be here momentarily." Bucky followed the doctor out with his eyes and as soon as he left, he locked eyes with his pitiful self. He was bruised and beaten from his tantrum, minutes before. Whenever he had remembered something from his past, his handlers would beat him bloody, and if that didn't work, they'd bring him to the lab and have the memories violently removed. He watched his past self take 3 deep breaths, as was his custom, and then slowly, he reached into his right pocket. He pulled out a stone that was flat and smooth, about the size of a quarter. And then he rubbed it with his thumb clockwise 4 times and stopped, only to repeat the rotation in a moment. As he did this he whispered under his breath while staring off into the distance, his eyes glazed. Bucky stepped forward, straining to hear the words. When he couldn't make out the whispers he stepped even closer-still, nothing. Frustrated he barreled forward until he was face to face with his bloody reflection, his lips moving but no sound coming out. He growled."What are you saying?!" They locked eyes, blue ice reflecting in each other's irises.

Finally, quietly, he heard it.

" _Micah, Jenny, Lillian, James, Micah, Jenny, Lillian, James, Micah, Jenny, Lillian….."_

Sometimes coming out of his dreams, he would have a slow regain of consciousness. This was not one of those times.

He jolted in his seat, gasping for air. His body wanted to defend itself, but he quickly looked down and accessed that his arms and legs where currently strapped into a chair. He quickly took in his surroundings, his mind racing and his blood pumping at a wild pace in his veins. Still in the shop. He didn't remember seeing this chair, but he was now in it. He'd been drugged with something and it had hurt like a bitch and left his body aching. And he didn't think the drug was still in his system but he hadn't stood up yet, so traces of it could still be in his blood. Important thing? He was alive.

He groaned and tilted his head back while closing his eyes as he focused on slowing his breathing. He'd always hated that dream. He didn't know if it had ever really happened to him or if he'd just imagined it. And the names, he presumed where his siblings. Every once in while he'd get flashes of memories, playing with these dark haired, blue-eyed children. He always felt a deep aching in his heart when those images came back. They were long dead now, either killed by the war or passed with natural aging. One day, he wanted to search for their graves and pay respects, maybe even watch their children and grandchildren from afar. But he would never make contact.

"Bad dream?"

His eyes flew open. He's almost forgot Mrs. Harjo. And his promise to kill her for inducing his nightmares. He replied as calmly as he could muster. "No."

"Interesting...that shot was loaded with stuff to give you some nice hallucinations. And I was sure you were muttering to yourself the whole time you were under-"

Bucky rattled the chair as he pulled against the restraints. "I was sent here for help. I don't appreciate being bound up and drugged like some animal."

There was silence from her for a moment. Then he heard her slowly moving around him and a part of him was relieved to finally see this woman and access how much of a threat she was. He grit his teeth and waited as she swung around, ready to fight.

All his anger left him in a moment and was replaced with surprise, then curiosity. He hadn't really known what to expect. When looking at her file, her picture had been removed. He found that interesting-she didn't have the highest level of clearance but still, even the highest authority within S.H.I.E.L.D had a face to their name. So why was she exempt? When he pictured a scientist or an engineer, he thought of someone more...bookish? Homely? Glasses maybe? The woman before him was not that.

She moved in close, her face inches away from his, her hazel eyes blazing with anger. Bucky tried to focus on her eyes but was distracted by so many unexpected features. She was fair skinned but not pale. Her hair was long and dark; her physique shapely, but athletic. A possible threat if her reaction time was fast. Bucky focused on her eyes again.

"If you didn't want to be bound up, ' _like some animal,'_ you would have come up to my front door. And if you were sent here by Clint, then you know who I am. Do you really think an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agent let's people just waltz onto their property?"

Bucky just stared back at her, still amazed and confused. She shot straight, Bucky liked that about her. Clint could have warned him though that she was a bit of a hardass. But right then and there he decided he liked her-she reminded him of Romanoff. But he couldn't trust her, not yet.

His lips twitched ever so slightly. "So you know Barton sent me?"

Her eyes turned into slits. "Prove that."

So they were playing that game. Bucky knew this woman was aware that he was coming-if Clint had done his job, she'd been notified. But she was cross checking him to make sure the message was actually sent from Clint. Smart woman. His mind went to work, thinking of ways he could convince her. But what would she believe?

"I have nothing but leverage."

She tilted her head observing him carefully. "Depends on what the leverage is."

"Roll up my left sleeve." She eyed him again, suspiciously. He sighed. "I'm already tied up and drugged."

She huffed and slowly rolled up his sleeve while muttering, " _Oh, I don't know, you're a trained ex-assassin?"_ But she quieted when she saw his prosthetic.

Her eyebrows moved up, then down. She bit her lip. Then tilted her head. Finally, "No offense to you or whoever did this, but this has to be the shittiest job on a prosthetic I've seen."

He grit his teeth and muttered, "I'm aware."

She shrugged, clearly not impressed. "So, what is this? How is this leverage?"

He met her eyes and this time they were softer, more curious. Now he'd be straight with her. "I want you to rip off this arm, reprogram, and redesign the new one for me. The leverage? My life is in your hands and I'm forever in your debt."

She absorbed the information and he could see her mind mulling over the options. She could do whatever she liked, control him even. Suddenly she moved towards his left shoulder and produced a swiss army knife to cut away his sleeve. He remained calm as she ripped the sleeve off and saw the withered red star on his shoulder. She hesitated but then gently pressed her fingertips onto his back, feeling how far the arm was anchored into his skin. He watched her eyes constantly dart to his face, trying to gauge his reaction and see if he would spring on her; which he wouldn't.

"Do you mind if I-uh…"

"You can remove the 'shittiest' prosthetic you've ever seen."

"Okay. Right. Hold on a second."

He watched as she darted around her lab, picking up various tools and stuffing them into her green cargo pants. He began to study her more as she moved around. She was wearing a fitting long sleeve shirt that kept skirting up and showing her midriff and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It was long, straight dark hair that swished and gleamed in the light with her movements. She turned her attention back to him, holding a small pointed tool. She pulled a chair up next to him and then met his gaze of curiosity.

"Alright, I take your leverage because I'm curious. But if I ever feel threatened again, I'll use that leverage to kill you. Understood?"

He simply nodded in reply.

"Good. Now, this shouldn't hurt. The prosthetic is very loosely connected, and I'm guessing it hasn't been very easy to maneuver with."

"Functional enough to get me here. Hard to find a scientist-"

"-That doesn't work for Stark, isn't Hydra and doesn't want to die? All valid points. Well, if you don't mind I'm going to take it off since that'll be my first step anyway."

"Sure." He sheepishly looked away but was very curious as to why she was suddenly more relaxed with him. She was in her element, he could see that but why all of sudden was she…

"Was this a test?"

He turned back to her and saw a slow smile creep onto her lips and he had his answer. "You could say that." Out of her pocket, she pulled a small circular remote, not much bigger than a quarter. With a a press of a button, the device illuminated his arm in a blue light and began to scan. After a moment it turned off and beeped. The screen projecting onto the wall suddenly lit up with the blueprints of his arm. She glanced at it, watching numbers fly across the screen as the blueprint began to rotate, giving her a 3D view of it. She took the small pointed tool, looking like scalpel up close, and began to examine the links between his shoulder and where the ugly prosthetic connected. She tinkered with something and he felt a jolt run down his spine. She must have seen him shiver because she gave him a worrying glance. "Did I hurt you?"`

"No, I just wasn't expecting it. Wasn't expecting the stab in the back either." She chuckled at this, ignoring the annoyance in his voice.

"I had to talk to you in a way where I wouldn't feel threatened. Clint told me you'd comply if you were truly Barnes and that I shouldn't be threatened by an ex-assassin. And then I find him snooping around in my garage and it just doesn't make for a good first impression...does it?"

"My apologies."

"We could have skipped the drugging if you'd just rung the doorbell."

"I have trust issues." He swiveled his gaze to her, expecting a challenge but she only nodded understandingly.

"That makes two of us. Guess we have to do things the hard way."

" _Indeed,"_ he thought. There would never be a day he wouldn't take precautions and if those didn't work he could punch his way out of anything. Which reminded him…..

"These bindings aren't very tight."

She scowled. "They work. And I'm not too worried. If you tried to stand up you'd be in a lot of pain, but be my guest."

His brow furrowed. "The poison is still effective?" He felt another jolt as she disconnected another wire.

"Fast thinker. You see, I knew you were coming and if I had to use it, I also knew you weren't a normal human. Like Steve Rogers, your pain receptors are excellent at receiving blows that would kill a normal person and your cells regenerate and fight against poisons much better than the average human. So I upped the dose. I gave you a dose that would kill any normal man, but would still have a lasting effect on your system."

"I'm not familiar with many poisons that have the ability to do that."

"Right. Well, I invented this one. So it's not on the market or used anywhere else. I don't trust what it could do, if used in the wrong hands. Hard to decipher who's S.H.I.E.L.D or HYDRA anymore. Romanoff helped clear some of that up when she released the files. Some of my suspicions had been right."

"What happens if I try to get up?"

She stopped her work and glared up at him. "It's gonna feel like millions of needles are stabbing you again. And then you'll pass out."

"How long was I out the first time?"

"Ten minutes."

"A record?"

"Well, yes. Seeing as you're the only one I've used it on other than myself."

That information surprised him. "Were you building immunity?"

"Yes. I don't like knowing something I created could be used against me."

Well that caught his attention. He was very intrigued by this woman and how careful she was with handling him in her space. Precautions was an understatement. But he couldn't yet understand what she was protecting. Everyone protected themselves but one would go to extreme lengths if there was something valuable in their possession. He'd just have to wait and see with this one.

"There aren't many people like you, interested in keeping weapons to themselves."

"Well, I'm hoping that changes."

He felt one last last tremor down his spine and then his shoulder felt weightless. He looked down at her work and saw that she had completely taken off the prosthetic. He raised an eyebrow at her, impressed with her fast work but also aware of how relaxed he been during the whole process. It must have been the drug.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He looked up and realized she had gotten up and had laid his prosthetic on her work table and was currently buzzing around a shelf, picking up different liquids and examining them. He glanced down at his wrist and rubbed it against the ties to see what he working with. Easily destroyable. The question was, would he have to do anything?

"Ah! Here it is…"

She had extracted an amber liquid and poured it into a small cup. She looked at him and gave him a small smile-he thought it was mischievous but couldn't quite tell.

"Before you get up, you have to drink this. Tip your head back."

He hesitated. "No more poison?"

"No more, I swear."

"How bad of a taste?"

"Only a little worse than NyQuil."

He didn't know what that meant but he tipped his head back and and waited. She was right, It wasn't too bad. But still, not tasty. As she walked away, he took a moment to feel how his body responded to this cure. When he felt ready, he stood up, ripping off the ties around his wrist in the process and then one at a time, freeing each leg. The chair was obliterated in the process, but it was wood..she should have picked a metal one. Mrs. Harjo had turned to look at him, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. She quickly shook the expression off her face.

"I really liked that chair."

"Sorry. Just feeling better."

"Yeah….yeah I can see that. Glad it worked so fast." She didn't sound 'glad' about it though. But she sighed and stepped forward, shoving her left hand forward.

"We didn't really have time for a proper introduction. But I'm Vanessa Harjo."

He closed his hand around her small one and shook it firmly. "James Barnes. Or Bucky."

"Never thought I'd meet a Howling Commando. Especially one that hasn't aged a day. The hair's new though."

He wasn't sure what to say to that, so his response was just an awkward head nod. He hated that his hand instinctively went to brush the hair from his face. She laughed and he liked how easily she laughed. It wasn't a sound he heard a lot anymore.

"Alright, enough small talk, let's talk logistics. It's going to take me awhile to figure your arm out. It's tricky in the way that it connects to your system and I don't want to physically endanger you in the process. Clint emailed all the files they'd collected from HYDRA's research and so I have that to help guide me. But it looks like we're also rebuilding since….well, since most of it was destroyed. So that will take time as well. If I had to estimate it, we're talking about a month of work if I did this everyday, all day and night. But I have another job that brings in the income around here, so some days I'll have to focus on that. It's going to be a couple months. I know that's a lot of time and patience on your part, but I promise," and she looked him in the eye then, "We'll do this right. We'll make sure you're the one in control of your arm by the end of it. Sound like a plan?"

The idea of a couple months scared him a bit for the reason that he still didn't know this woman. Dorset, Vermont would be his home for that amount of time. But there was no where else for him to go and he'd agreed to this. A part of him wanted to run again and stay hidden in the shadows of the world. But another part of him truly wanted to believe this woman. " _You could always run if things went sour."_ It was then that Bucky remembered what Clint had said about Mrs. Harjo. _Her purpose was good intentioned and her help didn't come with a price._ Clint hadn't said what pain it was that had shaped this woman's life. Maybe it was the passing of her husband. But he could see and sense that she was genuine.

"Sounds good."

She'd been watching him think it out and she nodded her head but her eyes were still prying. " _Good luck,"_ he thought. He'd been playing this game longer than she had and was a master at keeping his facade.

"Follow me." She beckoned him towards the back of the lab and he watched as she headed straight for a shelf. Just before she ran into it, the shelf hissed and moved over to the right, revealing a back room. A keypad had been revealed and she typed a code into quickly.

"Just disabling alarms...it won't recognize you. But I'll program it to let you in because this….." She swept her arm, presenting the room to him, "Is your new home."

He stepped inside the small room and looked around. On the left, tucked into the wall was a bunk for someone to sleep on and straight ahead was a door that led into a small bathroom. On the right wall, a desk and computer were set up. Beside it, built into the wall, were shelves and closet space. The room was comfortable, despite being small. It had a woman's touch-the throw pillows on the bunk bed were not a man's idea. He paced around until a picture on the wall above the computer caught his eye. He stepped closer and saw it was a man, a pilot to be more specific. He was dressed in his gear and had a huge grin on his face with two thumbs up, and a helmet tucked underneath his arm. Behind him, a quinjet was visible-he worked for S.H.I.E.L.D, as James could see the eagle on his chest. He had dark, curly hair and very tan skin. He was attractive and young in the picture and he knew it couldn't have been long since it had been taken-

"Oh jeez, sorry! I didn't even realize I had that up there still." Vanessa snatched the picture from the wall and then took two others down that he hadn't looked at yet. She suddenly seemed nervous and antsy to get out of the room.

"So, this is yours. I know it's not much but I can't have you staying in the house at the moment. If you ever need anything from me, feel free to hit this." Her hand found a button near the door that he hadn't noticed. Above it was a speaker. "Hit this, let me know what you need and I'll be over. There's one in the house. And um, if you need some light," She crawled into the bunk and touched the window which suddenly showed him the side yard. "Just touch it. And if you don't want any window, double tap it." She crawled out of the bunk and looked around.

"Oh! The bathroom has a shower too, and I'll bring over some towels and washcloths. And uh, I'll bring breakfast over every morning so just let me know what you like! And I think that's it. I know it's small, I just sometimes crash in here if I have a big project. Lazy, right? With the house being right there and all…."

She was rambling. And definitely nervous. Hiding something? Likely.

"Thank you," He said quietly and she hushed and gave him a small smile. "I know I'm invading your space. I'll be where you need me."

She sighed, seeming to relax a little more. "Okay, thank you." She hesitated before continuing. "It's just been awhile since I've left S.H.I.E.L.D. And I value my quiet life. I want to help you, but I don't want to sacrifice what I have here."

"You won't have to. I'd leave before that ever happened." And he meant that.

She nodded quietly, leaning against the door. In the whir of all the events that had happened so far, Bucky hadn't really been able to look at her. She was actually a very stunning woman. Her physique was slender but also muscular. It surprised him actually how muscular she was because her work wasn't very physical, but it was clear that she was training. Her skin tone was light and fair in comparison to her dark hair and eyes. His focus didn't stay too long on her hips or her chest to be polite, but she wasn't lacking in those areas either. Her face interested him the most and the expressions that splayed across it. Her hazel eyes always seemed to be intense on whatever they focused on. She had long dark lashes to match her dark eyebrows and hair. And her full lips were most of the time curved into a smile-she laughed a lot, and seemed to be easy going. She was different than most of the grim faces he'd worked with.

He knew he's been staring too long when those eyes gave him a quizzical look. " _What are you looking at?"_ they seemed to say. He quickly looked away. It was a new situation entirely for him to be working with a woman. All his life he'd camped with men and the people who had controlled him had been men. And now it was a woman for a couple months. He wasn't exactly sure what to do with himself. The old Bucky had been good with the ladies, he'd remembered that. But this Bucky felt out of place around Vanessa.

"Well, if you're all set, I'm gonna head back into the house. I can give you a ride to the end of the driveway if you want. I know you have to grab your bike."

"How-"

"-Cameras. Can never be too careful."

He nodded in agreement."And still decided to drug me?"

"Well I'm sorry, I thought you'd ring the doorbell. Which reminds me, no more snooping around. Not right now. I'll show you the property soon so you don't get to antsy. I'm sure you like knowing your escape routes."

"Doesn't everybody in this business?"

Before she could open her mouth to reply a sound cut them off. Not just a sound though. A voice.

"MOOOMMMMM!"

He watched Vanessa's face switch from relaxed to complete panic.

"Mommy! Mommy! Where are you?!"

Before she could move to intercept the child, he heard the little one's feet bounding into the shop and around the corner into her lab. In seconds, a little boy about 7 years old, flew around the corner. He had wild, dark, curly hair. And dark brown eyes. And dark, tan skin. He embraced Vanessa's legs and gave her the biggest grin he could muster.

"Mommy! Mommy! There's this really cool bike at the end of the driveway! Is it ours? Can we keep it and go for a ride? Please? Please?!"

At that moment many things clicked together in Bucky's brain. One, Vanessa was a mother, and a protective one at that. Two, the man in the picture had been Sayid, her deceased partner. But what her file had failed to mention? 7 years ago, around the day that Sayid had died, Vanessa Harjo had given birth to a little baby boy. And she had left S.H.I.E.L.D to raise him.


	4. Awkward Family Dinners

Chapter 4

"Why do you only have one arm?"

Bucky had never been comfortable around children. His career wasn't really 'kid-oriented,'and rightly so. If anything, he was leaving children orphaned, which was a dark thought that had crossed his mind once or twice when he'd gone into a guilt-ridden state. So he had zero experience with how to interact with one. So now that one was staring at him with wide eyes and a million questions, he found himself frozen to the spot.

"Roman! What have I told you?! Do not come into my shop unless you've asked!"

Vanessa was beyond flustered at this point, crouching onto Roman's level and forcing him to look away from James and at her. But his eyes were glued to Bucky, round and curious.

" _Roman!_ " She hissed, and this time he turned. "You are to go into the house right now, do you understand? Grandma will be in the house waiting for you."

He nodded his head solemnly and then snuck one more look at Bucky and loudly whispered, "Bye Mister! I hope you find your arm!" And with a little wave, he scampered around the corner and out of the shop.

Vanessa, who had been crouching, let herself plop all the way down. She groaned and let her head fall into her hands as she buried her face between her knees.

"I am so, _so_ sorry," she mumbled from behind her hands. She took a moment like this then looked up at him, her face defeated.

"I had planned this much differently in my head but-" She began to pick herself up from the floor, "Here we are."

Bucky had recovered from his shock and now his brain was in overdrive. Why the hell had Clint sent him here? Clearly, he was a threat to this family and there was a child involved now if anything was to go wrong. Clint had to have known she gave birth and was raising a kid by herself. It all made sense now, all the precautions Vanessa has been taking with him, why he would be staying in the garage and not the house. Roman was her valuable possession and motherhood had shaped her into the woman Clint trusted. But he was very wrong in thinking that this was the right place for him. He couldn't stay, knowing what was at risk for Mrs. Harjo.

"I'll leave."

Her face was pure surprise. "What? No, that's ridiculous. Honestly this is all my fault-"

" Mrs. Harjo, I didn't know about your child. If I had, I would have never come here."

"What? What are you trying to say? That I can't work and mother?" She laughed, but there was no mirth in it this time. "Listen I knew the risks and I had planned that Roman would meet you in due time. This wasn't supposed to happen-"

"-But it did."

She scoffed but no words came out in retaliation. She shook her head, clearly trying to come up with something, when an older voice interrupted them.

"Nessa?"

Vanessa sighed. "I'm in here, Mom."

"Where?"

Her expression flipped to annoyance. "In the shop? Where I always am?" She looked at Bucky apologetically. "I'm sorry, I have to talk to her." She turned to walk away but then stopped. "And we're not finished here. You're at least staying for dinner." With that, she turned on her heel and as she did, the sliding metal door hissed and shut him into the room. He stood there for a second, unsure if this meant he was locked in here or…

No. She had definitely locked him in here. He sighed, deciding to get comfortable if he was going to stay here for a little bit. If she wanted dinner, fine. But after that he was gone. He'd go anywhere as long as it wasn't here.

He sat on the bunk, his hands in his lap. He shook his head. Only one hand was there, but sometimes he imagined another there, matching the other with normal fingers, lines across both palms and less calluses. But only one stared back at him. _Damnit._ He wasn't going anywhere without another arm. Well, he could hitchhike if he needed to, but he didn't trust strangers.

He cursed under his breath and laid back in the bunk. He wouldn't sleep, afraid that his nightmares might return. The one earlier had been a mild one compared to the other ones that sometimes haunted his sleep. He sighed, knowing this was just going to be a waiting game.

"Roman, I need you to go play in your room."

Bucky lurched up in bed, careful not to hit his head on the bunk above him. He could hear Vanessa's voice loud and clear. The question was, how and where was it coming from? He creeped off the bed, slowly examining the room for speakers or cameras.

"I have to tell you about my day first!"

"I know buddy, I know. But I gotta talk with Grandma first, okay? I love you."

Bucky heard Roman's giggles float through the room and he seemed satisfied with his mother's response. "Okay, okay, stop kissing me Mom, it's gross!"

"Gross? What?! Come here!"

"I'm going to my room now!" He heard a door slam and then Vanessa's sigh. It was driving him crazy, where was the audio coming from….

He felt like an idiot when his eyes locked on the computer. The computer screen was black but a blinking light let him know the screen was just sleeping. He crossed over to it and bumped the mouse, waking the screen up. Sure enough, on the screen was a live video feed and he watched as Vanessa crossed into her kitchen. The screen was split into four sections to cover four different viewpoints within the house. He wanted to look away, knowing he shouldn't be spying on this family but his curiosity was tugging his conscience to keep watching. He sat down at the desk and clicked on the kitchen screen and it enlarged. Vanessa's mother had joined her in the kitchen now and it was clear she was not happy.

Her mother had more of an olive skin tone, but still had the same dark features when it came to their hair and eyes, the only difference being the gray streaks that ran through her mother's hair. Her mother was fairly tall and age had not made her feeble. She held herself with a certain poise that demanded attention and obedience. Her back was perfectly straight and currently her arms crossed over her chest, her lips a thin line. Amused, Bucky noticed where Vanessa's hips had come from-a detail that certainly wasn't important but noteable. Her mother was clearly not impressed and Vanessa wasn't interested as she stood at the sink peeling potatoes, back to her mother.

"Go ahead Mom, give it to me."

"Alright. What the hell were you thinking?" She hissed, her voice a harsh whisper. "Dragging some stranger into our home when you have a seven year old son to think about and take care of. And a job to manage. When you left S.H.I.E.L.D., you promised yourself that you would leave all that work behind. You promised me, for God's sake! I was always worried sick about you in that job and then my fears were confirmed when you lost your husband to it. Don't gamble with your life, Vanessa. If you think you can start to dabble in this work again, you are very mistaken. I saw the man on the cameras, you can't fool me. I knew when you left the house, something was up. Did you really think you could hide a man in our garage without Roman or I finding out? I don't like the look of him Nessa, he looks dangerous. Has Roman seen him?"

Vanessa aggressively peeled another potato as she spit out a, "Yes."

"Unbelievable."

Vanessa dropped the current potato she was working on and threw her hands up, exasperated. "Mom, what can I say at this point? Yes, you are right, so very right about everything. I should have been more careful but I had planned that Roman would never even see him. I'd work with him during the day and when Roman got home from school, he'd be gone. Maybe I am naive for thinking that would work, but you can't expect me to be content with working on cars for the rest of my life!"

"I don't, Vanessa." Her mother's voice had softened suddenly as she crossed to Vanessa, taking her hands in her own. "You are such an intelligent young woman. Why don't you just apply to the college as a professor, or at the hospital? They could use your hands there, the pay would be better, you'd be happier-"

"No." Vanessa pulled her hands away and went to the refrigerator, pulling out ingredients for their dinner.

"Why not? You're doing this just to spite me."

"I'm not Mom, I just don't want to be there. It's way too far away from Roman and I need to be close to him right now. I need to be here for him and I can be when I work at the auto-shop. And working at the college or the hospital puts me in front of people again. People who will know me, Mom. And then this little, quiet life we have here? It will be gone, all of it. I could be hunted down by HYDRA for my association with S.H.I.E.L.D.," she whispered. "That's why I can do the work I'm passionate about in the safety of my garage, while I use my other job to pay the bills. And for the record, I'm getting paid to do this job, so if it's the money you're worried about, it's covered."

"You know I never cared about the money. I care about yours and Roman's safety. And I don't like the look of that man."

"Well, he's staying. And I trust him enough. And he will be kept away from Roman, but he'll be here for a little bit because he has nowhere else to go. And he's missing an arm so-"

"He's what?!"

"Small detail, Mom. But he has to stay here, I promised a friend I'd take care of him."

"Oh dear God, this is Clint's work again, isn't it?"

"I didn't say-"

"You didn't have to! I am going to wring that man's neck if he ever comes over here again for coffee, I swear."

"Well at least you trust him, so can you trust that he had good intentions with sending that man here?"

"Clint should know better, he has children of his own. Would he bring strangers into his home? I don't think so."

"He brought all of the Avengers there, so there goes that theory."

"Nessa, I am done arguing, we have dinner to make. But this conversation is not over, not yet. Now, get some water boiling and slice those potatoes."

Her mother began to busy herself with dinner prep while Vanessa stood at the counter looking exhausted and worried. She glanced around the kitchen, then at her mother, and then her eyes lifted and made eye contact with the camera in the corner of the room. James froze, feeling like she could sense he was watching, but after a moment and a frown, Vanessa shook her head and got to work.

Bucky released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He felt an instant pang of guilt for spying on them. He knew he shouldn't have watched the interaction but the intensity of the two women had held his attention. They were clearly both very opinionated women, but there was true concern in the mother's voice, concern he didn't disagree with. Every point she made was a point he'd considered himself. He was a high level target and if HYDRA ever discovered his whereabouts, they'd be quick to recapture him and exterminate evidence of this family in the process.

The thought of HYDRA made him suddenly uneasy, the room beginning to feel like a prison. How did he always manage to get himself into these positions, trapped and used for another person's motives. While he didn't think Vanessa had a secret agenda, she might view him as a glorified science project. Which he didn't know what was worse, being a project or a prisoner-he'd been both. Exhausted and tired of trying to determine his fate, he decided to take a shower. The steam from the shower was always his one guilty pleasure and helped him relax. And if he was planning to bolt, he wasn't about to be a smelly hitchhiker.

Bucky hadn't foreseen the problem of not having a towel. He's vaguely remembered Vanessa saying she'd bring towels over for him, but sopping wet, he'd climbed out of the shower to only then come to the realization that he was missing that much needed towel. And then universe laughed at him, because a knock sounded at the door.

"Hey I'm coming in, alright? Dinner is gonna be ready in a second and I was thinking…." The metal door began to slide open and Bucky grabbed the nearest thing to him-the covers from the bed and shut himself in the bathroom. There was silence as Vanessa walked in and then a tentative,

"Barnes? You in here?"

The question was how to gracefully avoid the awkward situation. He didn't have a lot of options. So he cleared his throat.

"Just got out of the shower, my bad."

"Oh!" Her voice dripped with embarrassment but he didn't know if it was for him or herself. "I'm such an idiot, sorry! I didn't even think-wait, do you have a towel? I didn't bring one over..." Her silence filled in the gaps of his situation and he cringed at the little giggle that escaped her mouth. "Did you?..."

"You caught me off guard. So yes. I used the covers."

"I mean it's fine, great improvising. If you'll hold on a sec, I'll grab you an actual towel. We'll worry about dry covers later."

He could hear her trying to stifle her laughs as she left the room and thoroughly embarrassed, Bucky closed his eyes and let his head hit the bathroom wall. The annoying voice of Sam Wilson rang in his head. " _So it's a chick fixin up Ole Sunshine? Better send me then...he needs to work on his flirting skills…."_ Not that his objective was to flirt with this woman, because he had no idea where to start. But he was definitely out of practice and this interaction proved his social ineptness. He heard her softly enter the room again and quietly, she set his towel on the bed.

"It's just on the bed for you. I also brought you a flannel in case you wanted something fresh to wear for dinner. I'm gonna leave now….and I promise no more surprises."

He decided that to save face, it was better to not say nothing. He'd thank her later. He heard her retreat and the door hissed shut behind her. After a couple seconds went by, he ventured out, dropping the damp bed sheet and exchanging it for the towel. He pulled on the pair of jeans from earlier and found that she had retrieved his backpack from his motorcycle. She must have driven the bike up the driveway or at least he assumed so. He'd have to find out later, but meanwhile he just appreciated the gesture and pulled out a fresh white-shirt. He eyed the navy-blue flannel, wondering where she got it from, but thought it would be rude if he didn't wear it. For the final touch, he ran his fingers through his wet hair, working out the tangles and making sure it was out of his face. With a quick look in the mirror, he determined this was as good as it was gonna get, and that this awkward dinner was gonna have to happen, whether he liked it or not.

The door opened for him as he approached it and he noted she must have disabled the alarms. Once out of the garage, he headed for the front door-what he should have done the first time. He stood there for a moment unsure if he should ring the doorbell or not. He wasn't exactly welcome by everyone, so barging in would be upsetting so the doorbell was the safest bet-

The door swung open and startled him. Vanessa stood there and greeted him with a wide smile. "Hey! Come on in." She ushered him forward and he tentatively entered. He followed her lead into their dining room and he was greeted with a smile that was a little too friendly from her mother. Roman was beyond excited, bouncing in his seat. Her mother stood up and extended her hand forward.

"I'm Marcy, Vanessa's mother. It's nice to meet you." He shook her hand firmly, not believing the woman's politeness for a second.

"James Barnes."

"Oh? Do you prefer James or Bucky? It seems I've heard both."

He didn't know why he responded with, "James," but he did, and then took his seat at the table, the rest following suite. Ever since Steve had recognized him that fateful day, he'd been called Bucky. But the nickname only felt right with Steve. 'James' felt like a blank slate. There was a silence as they settled in their seats and Bucky was unsure of what etiquette to display. He'd taken a seat next to Roman and when he glanced over at him, the kid was staring at him expectantly. He frowned, not sure what the kid wanted.

Finally, he announced, "You're supposed to give me your hand." Unfortunately he was to the left of Roman and had no hand to give.

Vanessa blushed a deep pink and apologized. "Roman, he can't give you his hand right now, he doesn't have an arm."

"Why?"

"No more questions right now."

"But-"

"He can just hold my sleeve if he wants," Bucky offered quietly. Roman happily grabbed it and Vanessa and her mother shut their mouths. Vanessa sighed and her eyes kept silently apologizing to Bucky. "If you don't mind, we usually say grace before dinner?"

He nodded, giving her permission, and the family bowed their heads and joined hands. He peeked over at Roman who had his eyes squeezed shut. He followed their example, can't remembering the last time he'd said grace before a meal. Marcy started their prayer.

"Dear God, we thank you for this meal prepared today and for Roman having an _amazing_ first day at his summer program." Roman giggled happily beside him. "We pray that our weeks continue to go smoothly. And if not, help us not to worry about what's to come. You will take care of everything. Bless this food and my family. Amen!"

"ANNNND, thank you for James!" Roman added, and James opened his eyes just in time to catch Vanessa's small smirk. Marcy cleared her throat and nodded, her lips in that straight line again.

"Yes, we are thankful for James this evening."

They had all opened their eyes at this point which just led to another awkward silence which Vanessa broke by grabbing the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Who's hungry?"

Dinner had been interesting, to say the least. Vanessa and her mother had exchanged passive aggressive remarks while Roman and himself ate their dinner, avoiding eye contact to eat without interruption. Roman would give him curious looks, but didn't ask any more questions. The meal itself was great, a tender chuck roast, seasoned well and served with mash potatoes and grilled asparagus. He may have felt very out of place, but the meal was worth it. After dinner, Marcy ushered Roman into the living room to watch a TV show while Vanessa offered to walk him back.

They had a silent walk back to the garage, Bucky knowing that a conversation convincing him to stay would eventually arise. He was hoping she'd give up this fight. When they got to his door, she broke the silence first.

"Well, you survived a dinner with Marcy, that's an accomplishment."

He nodded, knowing that her mother was a woman to be reckoned with-of course Vanessa didn't know he'd been spying on their conversation from earlier.

"Thank you for dinner."

"Oh, no problem. It's a rule that everyone's well fed when my mother is around." She laughed to herself, shuffling her weight and digging her hands into her cardigan pockets. She'd changed since he'd last seen her, into a dark pair of jeans, a maroon t-shirt and a long, cream colored cardigan. She looked comfortable.

" _But..?_ " She let the question hang in the air between them.

"But I can't stay."

She shook her head. "What's really going on here? This afternoon you were hell-bent on getting your arm fixed up. And then you find out I have a kid, and it's game over? Sounds like a lot of my first dates."

"I'm not safe."

She looked at him hard, her hazel eyes bright and challenging. Finally she shrugged. "Listen, if you wanted to be who you were, you wouldn't be here asking for change. That's a good enough reason for me."

He was annoyed by her persistence. "I can't always control what happens."

She snorted. "I don't expect you to. So we set up safe guards."

He felt a strong urge to shake her then and make her understand what he'd done. No sane woman would welcome the Winter Soldier into her home. She didn't know the numbers, or the ugly things he'd done and witnessed while working for HYDRA. Being around Roman made him feel unequivocally guilty. What if there were other kids out there without a family because of him? He'd left Stark without parents, surely he wasn't the only one. And he would not be the reason for Roman losing another parent. This woman who had only met him hours ago, wanted him to stay and enjoy her hospitality, while all the while he would begin to learn her weaknesses and know how to take it all away from her if he wanted. He didn't want that but if something compromised his mind and he reverted back to his old ways….the damage would be irreversible. She'd lost too much already.

But he didn't know how to say any of that to her now. Her eyes held too much compassion for him, too much trust. And yet they made him believe she could see something that he didn't quite see in himself yet. He knew he had to try. For Steve, for the team. For all the sins he committed against the innocents. And Vanessa Harjo could be his only chance at that redemption.

"Okay."

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that an 'okay, I'll stay?' Or..."

"I'll stay."

She gave him a baffled look but a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I thought I was gonna have to beg but it looks like you've made up your mind. I'm glad you're staying."

"I'm staying, but there will be boundaries."

"Noted. But we'll talk those details out tomorrow. Get some sleep and I'll be over in the morning. Early bird or should I expect to wake the dead?"

"I'll be ready by 6."

"How about 7:30?" She countered. "I have to send Roman off and then I can be over here with some breakfast. You drink coffee?

He really didn't know. He mostly just consumed water and some liquor on occasion. "Sure."

"Black?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then. Here, you'll need these." She walked over to a shelf and retrieved a pile of linens. " A new bed sheet and some towels. Don't get them confused again."

He hated the smirk on her lips but took them graciously. "I'll try not to."

She grinned."There you go, grumpy. You'll have to learn to take a joke if you're gonna be around me. Anyway, sleep well." She began to walk away when he remembered that he was still wearing the flannel she'd given him.

"Do you want this back?"

She turned and he watched as her eyes clouded, the smile leaving her lips. "No, keep it. It fits you." She turned around the corner and the lights in the garage flickered off, one by one, leaving him alone in the dull light from his room. Strange. He didn't know what that last look had meant. He had a lot to learn about this woman, but he'd have the next couple of months to figure her out. He turned, letting the door slide shut behind him and he began to spread his new covers onto the bed. He peeled off his shirt and jeans and replaced them with sweatpants-it was too hot to wear a shirt to bed. Before crawling into his bunk, he went to his bag and pulled out a stack of notebooks. Taking the first one in the stack, he got under his covers and laid back, flipping to the first page and beginning to read. He did this every night, reading until he was sure the words would stay. And eventually sleep would take him and he could only pray he didn't fall into a nightmare.

Hey folks hope you've liked the updates so far, feel free to let me know what you think! I know it's an interesting story line so thanks for sticking with me;) I'm looking at switching POV's for the next chapter and I'm hoping to update every Monday but some chapters will need more work and I'll let you know when that occurs. Until then, enjoy!


	5. Cinnamon Rolls

Chapter 5

She vaguely remembered Roman crawling into her bed in the wee hours of the morning. He had stumbled in with his blankie and stuffed rabbit and had lost no time snuggling up under her arm and laying his head on her chest. Now it was 6 and her alarm had gone off minutes before but she just couldn't peel herself out of bed yet. She stroked Roman's curls absentmindedly, reveling in how soft and perfect they were. His chubby cheeks puffed in and out as he breathed softly against her chest, and she couldn't resist running a finger over his pouty bottom lip. These mornings were her favorite. She knew she would eventually run out of mornings cuddles when he realized it was no longer cool but until then, he was all hers. She pressed her lips to his forehead, breathing in his boyish scent and shea butter shampoo she'd massaged into his hair last night. She shook him lightly while kissing his nose and cheeks.

"Time to wake up sweet boy!"

He gurgled and then rolled over on to his stomach, his eyes blinking away heavy sleep. "Can we have cinnamon rolls for breakfast?" he slurred. She giggled, scooping him up into her arms again. "If you brush your teeth and put your clothes on, I'll make them. Sound like a deal?"

"Hmm what if I brush my teeth and put my slippers on? And then I can get dressed later."

She shook her head, amazed at how this kid could already be bargaining with her. "Alright, I'll allow it. But that means you gotta get up right now and have your clothes ready."

Roman shot up from her chest and squirmed to get out of her grip. She laughed and let him shimmy off the bed and race into the bathroom. She sighed, knowing it was time to pull on her big girl britches too. But changing after breakfast sounded like a good idea. Roman was undoubtedly her son.

Her mother was in the living room, doing her morning reading on the couch when Vanessa walked out of the bedroom. She had hoped to sneak by her into the kitchen, but without even looking up from her book, she spoke.

"Good morning, Nessa."

She stopped in her tracks and inwardly groaned. She didn't want to start anything this early, not with Roman still in the house. And 'Nessa' wasn't always a friendly nickname with her mother. It could mean trouble. "Good morning Mom. I was just gonna pop some cinnamon rolls into the oven. You want any?"

"Cinnamon rolls? You want to rot Roman's teeth out?"

She gave her mother a well practiced, steady stare. " _Ma_. I rarely ever treat him."

Her mother raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. How her mother managed to stay so regal and groomed at all times, she never knew. "Oh? Does today call for celebration?" She returned that same challenging stare over the rim of her reading glasses.

Vanessa shifted her weight, currently wanting to avoid the topic of the man in her garage. "Nope, no special occasion. I just like a warm, sugary treats to rot my teeth out with." She gave her mother a sickly sweet smile and sauntered into the kitchen. She knew her mother was smiling behind her. She always did appreciate a good, smart-ass remark.

"Save me one."

She grinned, having avoided the storm for now. "Will do, Momma."

She preheated the oven and twisted open a can, setting the rolls out on a baking sheet. She wondered if James would want one. He didn't really seem like the type who liked treats, but maybe he had an undeniable sweet tooth. She shook her head. There was no way. She reached into the fridge and pulled out a pound of ground sausage. You couldn't go wrong cooking a man biscuits and gravy.

Roman licked his sticky fingers and pronounced himself done with breakfast. Vanessa smiled at him over her cup of coffee. "Well hurry up, go get dressed!" He scampered off and she knew she wouldn't have it any other way. Although a daughter would have been nice, she was meant to have a boy and if it was only going to be him, she was a happy mother. She sighed and got up, turning the stove off to let the gravy cool. It was time to get dressed. She pulled on a comfy pair of joggers and a loose white tank top. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she shrugged at her rats nest of hair and threw it up into a messy bun. Today was going to be a long day and she needed to get comfortable.

She'd stayed up most of the night, scouring over the files Clint had passed onto her. She had learned quite a bit about the Winter Soldier's bionic arm and origin, some very chilling facts, but it didn't sway her from her decision. She would help him and in turn she hoped he'd continue to use his new arm for good. The only thing she couldn't fix was the mental and emotional damage HYDRA had caused with his brainwashing. His expression was placid at all times so she never knew what he was thinking. The brainwashing and capture by HYDRA still had to be giving him PTSD, but she wouldn't find out how bad it was until she'd worked with him for a bit. She expected it and honestly that part concerned her the most. If was an unpredictable variable, not knowing what would trigger his memories. But she'd been through it before with Sayid-she could do it again.

"Mom, I'm ready!" She grabbed a flannel and pulled it on while walking out into the living room. Roman was bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he always did when he was impatient or excited. He had his backpack slung over his shoulders and Marcy stood nearby, keys in hand. Vanessa crouched down in front of Roman and looked him in the eye.

"You gonna be good today?"

He nodded his head vigorously. "Uh-huh."

"And you promise to tell me every detail when you come home, good and bad?"

"Yes, Momma."

"Okay. Well, I guess I can let you go now." He turned from her and she only gave him a second before she scooped him again. He giggled and fought wildly to escape her kisses.

"I love you my little man, have an amazing day!" With a final smooch on the cheek, she released him and watched as he burst out the screen door and ran to the land-cruiser. Her mother sighed, watching him go as well. Then she fixed a worried gaze on Vanessa.

"I have to do some grocery shopping after I drop him off. And I promised Lenette I'd visit. Are you going to be alright?"

"Alone with the strange man in my garage? Of course."

"Nessa, for one moment don't act like your father. I'm serious. If anything goes wrong-"

"-I will fight tooth and nail to get out of here. Don't worry about me. But thank you."

Her mother cupped a hand to her cheek, her thumb running back and forth over it. Her eyes were full of emotion and she knew she looked at Roman like this some days. "I love you. You know that right?"

She placed her hand over her mother's. "Yes. I love you too."

The emotion slipped away from her eyes and was replaced with all business. Her mother had a tendency to flip quickly; She never was the super sentimental type.

"I'll be back around 3 darling, call me if you want me to pick you up anything special."

Vanessa opened the screen door for her and watched her walk out to meet Roman. She called after her. "Maybe McDonald's fries?" Marcy turned and gave her a withering look but didn't say no. Vanessa grinned and waved them off as they drove down the driveway, her blowing kisses to Roman. She stood on the porch for a moment, watching them go. When they were out of sight she turned back inside to ready breakfast for the mysterious Winter Soldier.

She hoped to God she wasn't arriving during his shower time again-the first time had been awkward enough. She hadn't seen anything of course, but knowing that a very attractive man was completely naked, wrapped in only a bed sheet, fresh out of the shower-well she couldn't say her thoughts had been entirely innocent. She'd surprised herself actually, that she'd even allowed her mind to go there. It had been seven years since Sayid had passed and she was convinced her sex drive had disappeared forever. But it gave her a little satisfaction knowing there was still a flicker of hope. Of course, not with James because that wasn't professional. But it was there.

She took her time walking into the garage, careful not to spill his cup of coffee while she balanced his breakfast in the other hand. When she rounded the corner, she noticed that his door was open this time and she was silently relieved.

"Hey Barnes, I got your coffee and breakfast out here when you're ready!"

She placed his things on her work table and walked over to her computer to boot it up. As she did so, she couldn't help but sneak a peek into his room. He was standing in the middle of his space, unfolding a t-shirt and stretching it up and over his head. She'd stopped when she saw the scars. She knew it was rude to stare, but some of the wounds were hard to look away from. His biggest scars were collected around his shoulder, where they'd made the incisions to connect the bionic arm. Then there were smaller scars trailing down his spine. She tore her eyes away just as Barnes turned to face her. She pretended to busy herself at the computer as she tried to forget what she'd seen. He quietly entered into her work space, examining his breakfast.

"Thank you."

She jumped and immediately scolded herself. She knew he was there, why was she so jumpy? And now he'd be suspicious of her. She swallowed hard, trying to calm her nerves as she looked at him.

"You're welcome. Hope you like biscuits and gravy."

His blue eyes bored into her, willing her to bare all. At least it felt like that. "I'll give you a moment to eat. I have to grab some things before we start."

He nodded and relieved, she hid behind her shelves, embarrassed that she'd been startled by him. She knew his past, she'd seen the files and yet it hadn't seemed real until she'd seen his scars. They'd given her a chill straight down the spine. Honestly what had she gotten herself into? She grabbed what she was looking for and hurried back, not wanting to seem like she was avoiding him.

In the minute or two that she'd been gone, James had cleared his plate. She stopped short upon seeing it, honestly amazed. "Well, I'm glad you liked it."

"It was very good."

She grinned, her fears and doubts slipping away about the man before her. "Would you like to take a seat?" She'd pulled out her special chair, one she'd salvaged from a dental office not too long ago. The chair was perfect for work like this. "Only if you're ready. I'll let you take a couple more swigs of coffee if you like."

He shook his head. "I'm ready now."

She took a seat next to his chair and as he walked over, she suddenly felt very small as his bulk hovered over her. She didn't feel threatened, but still it was hard to deny that he was a lot of man. She had to fight against the defensive signals her body wanted to reflexively do. Yes, he was an ex-assassin, but she didn't want their relationship to be built on fear. He laid back for her and she scooted up close, ready to get some answers. She flipped on the overhead light and he squinted a little as his eyes adjusted.

As she positioned her tools in a tray next to her, she talked to him gently. "We'll go at your pace, what _you_ feel comfortable with. If something feels wrong or you think it will trigger something-we stop. I don't mind taking my time with you. I have to find out what's still intact and then hopefully we can get a skeleton working to the remaining nerves in your arm. Anything else you want me to know before we begin?"

He'd laid perfectly still while she'd explained herself, staring at the ceiling. Now he turned his head to her, his blue eyes so clear and determined. "Always have a dose of the poison ready. In case something happens. And make it lethal."

"I gave you the highest dose I've ever given anyone. I don't know what happens if I give you more."

His gaze fixed on the ceiling again. "Don't worry about it."

She bit the side of her cheek, unsure if this was the right answer, but she had to trust he knew himself best. And based on her reading last night, his work had left no survivors. _Breathe in and breathe out._

"Um, I know you're settled in and comfy...but could you do me a favor and take off your shirt?"

She wasn't being cheeky, she really did need him to, to proceed. But it didn't stop the warmth that spread across her cheeks. He complied without a word and was miraculously shirtless within seconds, her vision suddenly swarmed with his incredible pectoral and abdominal muscles. Good God this man was an Olympian.

She willed her mind and eyes not to drift where they'd be distracted. She rolled back to her computer and clicked on the scan she'd taken yesterday of his arm. The screen on her wall flickered and then presented her the 3D scan, her eyes quickly scouring over it, looking for his nerve endings. She swiveled back to him, ready to work. Hours passed as she pulled back the remaining panels of his arm, detaching them completely and placing them to the side. She made countless notes, taking her time and brainstorming how she would fix it. He stayed silent. She took a smaller pointed tool and slipped it into the space created by the removed panels, where she could see his skin and where the wires connected to his nerves. She held her breath as she began to count which wires had been completely dismantled. Currently four that would probably require some surgery...the more she dug, the more she was amazed.

"Can I ask you something?" She paused her work and put down her tools and he turned to her expectantly. "Did they ever make 'upgrades,' as time passed? Or was this the original design first implanted?"

He pondered it for a moment. "The design was rarely modified. This is close to the original."

She sat in silence, completely shocked. The work done on his arm had been decades ahead of its time. _Arnim Zola._ His name had been scratched all over Barnes files, the man behind the Soldier's bionic arm. The man disgusted her in many ways but there was no denying his genius. To have crafted technology that would connect to Barnes' very nerves and brain and then to keep him alive while doing so-it was impressive and nearly impossible if Barnes hadn't been experimented on earlier. His bones and muscles were vastly denser than the average human's and his regenerative healing and enhanced stamina stopped the aging process all together. He was HYDRA's version of the Captain. She guessed Zola had been trying to create a serum similar to that injected in Steve Rogers and he hadn't entirely failed because Barnes had survived a fall, fatal to anyone else. Thus proving that he could probably survive a serious surgery.

"Mrs. Harjo?"

She startled in her seat but was quick to recover. "Sorry! Lost in thought." He stared her down as if he was prodding for more..she caved.

"I'm sorry. I'm just surprised. This-" she said, pointing to his arm, "-is very advanced. And being a woman who studied biomedical engineering, knowing how long it took the rest of the world to figure this stuff out...I'm amazed."

His eyes darkened and she was suddenly aware that he might not find this as amazing as she did. "I didn't mean it like that. You're not-"

"A project?" His voice held no emotion as he stared straight forward into the space.

Vanessa pressed her lips together, wishing she'd never voiced the thought. She hadn't meant to make him feel like another project. He was used to scientists seeing him as a means to an end. The end of countless lives in this case.

"What's the damage?"

His voice kept taking her off guard. He always spoke when she least expected it. "Well, some of the wires are still external and I'll be able to meld them into new ones that will run through the arm. Others were broken off and are still tunneled underneath your skin. I can't reach them without surgery. Zola.." She was hesitant to say his name around Barnes. "He was rather cruel in the way he connected to your nerves. He essentially hijacked them and made them apart of the machine. Luckily, your body survived that and the nerves somehow attached or rather 'grew' into your arm. Modern technology would be less invasive. I would connect electrodes to to your chest where the reworked nerves would lie and that would help pick up brain signals and help you move the arm. But it doesn't make sense to do that since he tampered with them so long ago. I don't you think your nerve endings could survive another transfer of that magnitude."

He nodded his head slowly and she wondered how much he was understanding, or wanted to. She felt a pang in her chest, her empathy overflowing for the man who hadn't a say with his body anymore.

"When would you perform the surgery?"

She sucked in a breath. "Soon. I have to do that first and then I can build the skeleton of your arm. After that, we layer in the protective panels."

"You can perform that surgery?" His eyes looked over her skeptically.

"Yes. But not by myself."

He raised an eyebrow. "Who else are we involving?"

She squirmed in her seat. "No one you haven't met."

"Oh?"

She sighed. "My mother would help me. IF, I can get her to help me. She was a surgeon at one point."

The sound that came out his mouth next shocked her. Was he…?

Laughing. He was actually laughing. Well chuckling, but damn, she knew it couldn't be something he did often.

"Is there anything else about this family I should know? Or are all of you gifted?"

She didn't know if he was being serious or sarcastic. "Well, my dad was just a regular car mechanic if that makes you feel better."

"You're sure he wasn't working on government vehicles or air crafts in secret?"

She gave him a wry smile. "I'm sure."

The smile on his own lips faded away. "I wasn't mocking you. I'm impressed."

Everything about this man confused her. "You are?"

"Yes. I didn't think I'd luck out in Dorset, Vermont with an engineer and an ex-surgeon. I'm not saying this situation is ideal. But it can work."

She hated how flushed her face became by his smallest of compliments. He actually trusted her. Or was beginning too.

"You sounded hesitant when speaking about your mother. Will she help?"

That was the question she wondered herself. "I think, and this is in no way an offense to you, but I think she'll help so she can have her cottage quiet and safe again."

He shrugged. "Fair enough. I wouldn't want me in my own home either."

"Stop it! I'm sure you got some charm. Marcy will melt with a few well placed compliments. Talk about her garden or her cooking. That always works."

He smirked and sat up in his chair. "I'll give it a try. So, I can expect surgery...how soon?"

"I'll have to call in some favors to get the equipment I need, but we could start next week?"

"Good." He got up from his chair and stretched and Vanessa forced herself to look away. She really needed him to put his shirt back on.

"I know you're probably wanting that right arm back soon. Are you managing okay without it?"

He gave her a short nod. "It's good for me to get familiar with my non-dominant hand."

Vanessa turned away and smirked, keeping the dirty joke to herself-her father was the one to thank for that sense of humor. He definitely was just talking about getting familiar with a weapon in the left hand. Much less funny. Her attention snapped back to him when his stomach growled fiercely next to her. He didn't look happy that his stomach had betrayed him and she laughed.

"I guess it's lunch time, huh? Here, we'll go in the house, 'bout time you see all of it."

He took his time entering the house, his eyes taking in everything, probably memorizing details that could somehow be used against her...she could only imagine. But she showed him the living room, kitchen and the bathroom, the only places he really needed to know. While she made them some sandwiches, he crept around the house silently. He stopped to observe every picture frame, magazine, cabinet or drawer. He didn't always open them but she could tell his fingers were itching to explore the place further. Marcy would kill her if she knew she'd let him in the house. Oh well.

He almost startled her again for the 5th millionth time, when he suddenly appeared next to her at the counter where she was preparing their food. His lips always slightly puckered when he was focused, scanning everything with his eyes. It made his intense face slightly adorable. She watched as his eyes fell on the leftover cinnamon rolls, sitting on the stove. He surprised her when he picked one up.

"Are these for any special occasion?"

She blinked. "Um, no. Roman just begged for them this morning. I had some leftover." He nodded and she realized he might actually have wanted one. "I didn't bring you one because I didn't think you would like sweets."

He raised an eyebrow and she swore there was a mischievous glint in his eye. "Never assume." With that he popped the whole thing in his mouth and walked over to the kitchen table.

She stood there, completely dumbfounded, unsure if she should laugh or pretend like it never happened. Just when she thought she understood him, another side of him appeared. She crossed over to the table and set his sandwich in front of him.

"Hope you like chicken salad. I know I shouldn't 'assume' but it's what I have."

"Thank you."

She watched him like a hawk, looking for that smirk reflected in his eyes moments before. Nothing. He was back to his placid facade. They quietly munched on their sandwiches and she saw he did do pretty well with only one hand. But she'd love to get him that second arm as soon as possible. When he finished he sat back in his chair and observed her. It wasn't creepy but it did make Vanessa's face hot again. She wondered what he was looking for.

"Why did you choose engineering?"

Back to his questions again. "Long or short story?"

He shrugged. "We have time don't we?"

She inhaled. "Well, it has a lot to do with my parents. I grew up shadowing my Dad in his garage every morning. I was fascinated with how things worked and were put together. My mother of course hated it. She loved my Dad, but she was the money maker in the house and she wasn't going to let me go into a profession that wasn't 'practical.' Lucky for her, I also had an interest in medicine, but I compromised with biomedical engineering. Best of both worlds."

"That was a short story. How did your parents meet? Very different professions."

She grinned. "Oh it was very romantic. Could have been in a Hallmark movie. Her car slid off the road during a blizzard and my Dad drove by in his tow truck just a little while later, on his way to pick someone else out of the snow. But my Mom got first dibs." She winked. "Serendipity."

He gave her a soft smile and Vanessa liked the way a smile changed his whole demeanor. It brought out his tender side. She wondered if he believed in serendipitous events himself. Or had too much pain crushed that hope?

"Where's your father now?"

Hm. She knew he'd get to that. "He died a couple years ago. Heart attack. His health was never the best and I don't want to say I knew it was coming but-" She sighed. "Come it did. My mom had a lot on her plate that year, but we made it through together."

"You must've come here, right after the birth of Roman? At least he got to meet him, right?" His eyes searched hers hopefully.

She was learning that this soldier could be inexplicably sensitive when he wanted to be. She hated that tears wanted to spring in the corners of her eyes, but it was true. She was lucky that her father had gotten to hold Roman. She wished he'd also had time to get to know him. She forced a small, grateful smile.

"Yeah, he got to hold him when I got home."

He didn't push any further than that with her, and Vanessa knew there were many more things to ask. About Saiyd. How he'd died, how she felt about losing and gaining the world all in one night. But he didn't press and she was grateful. Too much to unpack to a complete stranger...though he was becoming less of one with each second. And it was time she learn some things about him.

"What about your family, Barnes?"

He went still, avoiding her eyes, but she could tell the question was one he maybe asked himself. She had to be careful. She still didn't know what acted as a trigger for him.

"I remember bits and pieces of them. My dad wasn't in the picture, but that was typical where I lived."

 _Brooklyn in the 1920's._ The information blazed in her mind from what she'd read in his files. She couldn't believe that the man sitting in front of her had lived that much life and didn't look a day over thirty.

"My mom raised us by herself. I was the oldest of four. And I became the second provider in the house next to my mom. We worked together and held each other afloat. It paid off."

She could tell the question had spurred something in him. He was thinking more than what he was telling her. Should she press any further?

"Do you see any of them anymore?"

This time he looked at her, and his eyes were sad, his gaze solemn. "It's best I don't reach out to them. I died when I fell off of that train...if I go to them now, I'm a ghost. I don't belong in their lives anymore."

His words were lightly colored with that old Brooklyn accent. Did he even hear it in his own voice? She doubted it, but she took his meaning. His family wasn't something he was interested in digging up and the past was the past. Time to switch gears.

"Well," She stood up from her chair. "I think we can be done for the day with research. But I promised you an outside tour."

He followed suit and also stood up, a head taller than she was. "I'd like that."

There wasn't much to show him other than the garden and the backyard. After that, there was just the surrounding woods, which Vanessa had always loved, especially in the fall which would be coming soon. He walked ahead of her now, just reaching the outskirts of the backyard into the woods. He looked beyond into the trees and she could tell his curiosity was piqued.

"There's a trail just off to the left if you ever want to go on a walk. It eventually winds into town or to the quarry. But the quarry is a longer walk."

"The quarry?" He repeated.

"Yeah, there's deep water in the bottom of it. Always great for a summer dive and place to cool off. It's famous around here."

"Interesting," was all he had to say about that.

When his gaze continued to linger on the woods, Vanessa chuckled to herself. He just had to know what was inside, didn't he?

"You can take a walk if you like. I have some cleaning in the house I should do, so I won't mind."

He nodded absentmindedly. "Okay."

"Dinner will be done around 7 tonight so just get back before that." She winked at him and he didn't know what to do with that one, but nod again. She was beginning to read his various nods and what they meant since he rarely spoke. He walked off into the woods and she watched him for a moment before she couldn't put off cleaning any longer. The house was a mess and Marcy was gonna kill her if it didn't get cleaned today.

The air had become cooler in the afternoon and dropped even more as the day passed into the evening. He was comforted by the smell of the woods and although the woods were open, he didn't feel like a target here with so many places to hide. And he'd become familiar with these woods everyday so that no hiding place was missed by him. But today, he needed the fresh air and the scouting could wait. Being in a chair under the spotlight for 4 hours this morning had made him jumpy. She hadn't hurt him but he swore he could still feel the restraints on his wrists, the millions of needles they poked under his skin, the mouth guard stuffed into his mouth, keeping his screams muffled….he shuddered, the memory slipping away as fast at it came. He'd done everything possible to not show his alarm to Vanessa while she worked on him and it looked like the facade had tricked her. He'd felt vulnerable today but that was the last thing he'd ever show a stranger. But still, he wasn't proud of the restraint he'd showed because he knew as soon as his shirt had come off, she'd seen the scars. And scars raised questions. Questions he didn't want to be asked or answer.

But the walk was slowly putting the tension to rest. She'd shared openly with him in the kitchen and he could tell she was beginning to trust him. _But should she trust you?_ He wasn't as transparent with her, that was for sure. But he wasn't sure how comfortable he'd allow her to get with him. He wanted her to trust him enough to work on his arm but he didn't want to build a familiarity with her. She was a good person, one who didn't need his trouble in her life. And he'd soon be gone-a couple of months would fly by. The relationship had to be mostly business. He wasn't keen on having attachments anywhere.

But he couldn't deny that the woman's family interested him. When she's talked about her parents, he could sense the amount of love and respect she had for them both. While she'd been talking, his heart felt this annoying pang...it wasn't curiosity, or empathy or understanding-it was jealousy. She had so much compared to him, even despite of her loss and he hated all of the empty and unanswered questions he had about his family. The memories of them were no longer clear but looking for answers wouldn't make him feel better. It would just remind him of what was never to be his. Only something to long for. And Vanessa Harjo was a painful reminder of that loss.

He was grateful for her help, but grateful is all he could be…

Hey guys sorry that this update has come later. Life got crazy busy! And moving forward my updates will probably be every other week. Hopefully this longer chapter makes up for it. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Rainy Days

Chapter 6

Vanessa rolled over onto her side and groaned, forever uncomfortable and unable to sleep. It was too early to be up and her body begged for sleep but the incessant kicking in her abdomen wasn't allowing it….

She felt his hand brush over her stomach and it roamed slowly, searching for-

"Ah! There she is!" His voice held uncontained delight and the baby kicked harder at the sound of his voice.

"Hey!" She scolded, "You're getting them riled up!" She peeked her eyes open and met Sayid's onyx ones, sparkling with excitement.

"It's a girl. _I know it._ "

She giggled and shook her head. "You do not know that."

His smirk challenged her. "We'll see who's right, soon enough. Did you sleep well?"

Vanessa rolled onto her back and huffed-it was a process to do even that. "Well, I would have liked to have slept a couple more hours but I don't think that's gonna happen."

Sayid snuggled up to her tummy and rested his head on her chest while she stroked his unruly curls. Despite it being too early, and feeling stuffy and maybe not the sexiest wife in the world, she smiled blissfully. She was content with this morning-how often did she get these mornings with Sayid? She kissed his forehead and he hummed in approval. Soon she'd get to hold her little miracle and Sayid would have to be wrong-she just knew it was a boy. But it didn't matter, she just couldn't wait to officially make him a father.

Sayid raised his head. "Breakfast in bed this morning?"

Vanessa laughed. "I think that would be great." The baby kicked again and Sayid grinned. "She likes it too!" He laughed, then leaned in for a kiss. She savored his lips and deepened the kiss, before it all slipped away…

* * *

She woke up from her nap, groggy and discombobulated, her dream of Sayid still clinging to her consciousness. She rubbed her temple, willing the images to dissipate. Seven years and she still dreamed of him. But every time his face became more blurry. And yet her mind refused to let go of his voice, his face, his smell….

Thunder boomed and reverberated in the skies, making her jump back to reality, her heartbeat like a hummingbird's. Her room was dimly lit and a steady rain was falling outside. She breathed a sigh of relief, another much needed summer rain...She grabbed her phone, glancing at the time. _5:00_ and a message from Marcy glowed back at her. _Good_. She hadn't slept too long. Her mother would be back later with Roman and leftovers were in the fridge for her and…

 _James_. Who was currently out in the woods. The covers flew off of her as she scrambled out of bed. Her feet pounded to the front door-no sign of him in the house. She swung open the screen door and looked into the garage, only to see all the lights were still off, just as she'd left it. She hastily slipped on a pair of boots and one of her mother's jackets before prancing through the rain to make it safely into the garage. She flipped on the lights and let her eyes adjust as she rounded the corner into her workshop. Maybe he was in his room…..the door slid open, only to be vacant. Damnit. He was still out there.

She rested her back against her work table, thinking to herself. His bike was still in her garage, so he hadn't taken off anywhere. And he was a grown man, who could definitely take care of himself in the woods, _but still_. She prayed his sense of direction was good and that he'd make it back safely. She sighed and booted up her computer, her hands feeling idle and needing work to do. She couldn't just wait for him to get back, that would be creepy. Instead, she flipped through the holograms of his arm millions of times before she finally became frustrated and ready to work. She needed to being working faster to get his prototype put together. The man was walking around with only one arm and while he didn't complain, she new it had to be getting to him. It was definitely getting to her.

Her hands flew to work and she began to grab and assemble her materials of wires, metal, screws and bolts. She loved how such simple resources could make the most amazing things-in this case, a weaponized arm. Her teen self would have been geeking out at such an opportunity. As she pieced together what would become the skeleton of his arm, her mind worked on the solution for a different problem. The metal used to create his first arm was made of a rare metal. One with a strong resistance required for the strength of it, but also flexible enough to move as an appendage. Whatever Hydra had used, she knew one thing and it was that the same metal would not be available to her now. She dropped her tools when the solution suddenly popped into her mind.

She grabbed her phone, preparing to punch in the numbers, but something stopped her. She'd had a resource back at the academy, one who'd helped her for years when she was stumped on certain projects. But the thing was, she'd never seen their face. She didn't even know if they were male of female. But whoever they were, they'd taken a special interest in Vanessa and her work. They'd been left countless notes and clues whenever she'd been stumped on formulas or how to find the exact resource she was looking for. But did she trust them now? She'd been given a number to get a hold of them before she'd resigned from S.H.I.E.L.D. But this only made her more suspicious. What if the contact was Hydra? Then they'd win the jackpot with the location of the Winter Soldier and she'd put her whole family in danger.

She put her phone down and paced in the workshop, weighing her choices. She knew this contact could get her the metal she needed to skillfully finish Barnes' arm. But then there was the mystery of who her contact was. Marcy and James wouldn't want her to do it. Marcy would be furious that she still had contacts from her S.H.I.E.L.D days, having asked her to delete them when she chose to live simply and protect Roman. And she knew James wouldn't want her to do anything that would put her family in danger. He already felt like a threat. _But damnit, she needed that metal!_

Her hand grabbed for the phone before she could talk herself out of it. Her fingers skipped over the keys as she typed out her text. It wasn't a calculated risk, but she prayed she was making the right decision. She clicked send, making it final.

 _I need vibranium._

Her instinct told her the contact was a woman. In previous encounters, the sense of humor and the directness suggested she was dealing with a woman. An intelligent one at that. Now she waited. Which wasn't very long.

 _Ping!_ The sound was eerie in the empty garage. She swiped the phone from the table and read the reply. _Mrs. Harjo, it's been too long. Happy to see you're back in business again._

She typed a reply, playing along with the conservation-she was always talkative. _Yes, it's been awhile. And I'm short on resources. Think you might have somebody for me?_ Another reply within seconds: _I am your somebody. Vibranium is at my fingertips. But where are you is the question?_

Vanessa sucked in a breath. She didn't know if she could bargain this one. Should she have it sent to Clint first? He'd protect her, but a direct delivery would be much faster. Another message dragged her away from her options.

 _You're hesitant, I understand. But Roman and your family are safe. As is the Soldier._

Vanessa's heartbeat raced in her chest. _She was being watched...but she was safe?_ Her contact had too much leverage for her to be comfortable and trust that her words were true. She rolled her eyes when another message pinged in.

 _Vanessa, if you doubt my loyalty, I will deliver the vibranium myself. I think it's time we meet in person, don't you?_

Something snapped inside of her and she decided she was done debating. She always played it safe. If the contact was a threat, she'd remove it. _Fine, we meet in person. Seb's cafe in Dorset, Vermont. I need it by Tuesday._

 _I like the way you deal, Vanessa! It's a date, 4 o' clock. Hope they have good tea._

She released the tension with a breath. She'd either made the worst deal or the best. But she really could be scoring vibranium, which was near impossible to obtain. Which she found interesting that her contact would claim to "have it at her fingertips." Vibranium was last found in Africa. Wherever this contact was, she was confident she would make it here on Tuesday at 4. And Vanessa wasn't going to waste time worrying about it at the moment.

Another bout of thunder shook her and reminded her of the forgotten storm. The rain was coming down harder now and her worry for James resurfaced as though it had never left. He still hadn't come back. He had to be freezing and soaked to the bone-

The garage door slammed open at that moment and her head snapped to meet his chilling gaze. James. He was indeed soaked but something was off. Something was in those eyes as he approached her, frozen to the spot. A deep pain had resurfaced and now he was paying the price. She knew that look. When you buried your hurt over and over again and it pushed its way up anyway, like a defiant daisy in the spring. He stopped just in front of her, and she slowly tilted her chin up to look him in the eye as he towered over her. Drops of water sprinkled her cheeks as they slipped from the ends of his hair and for a second only their breath mingled in the silence. She timidly ventured to break it.

"Hey...you wanna talk about it?"

* * *

The air had been holding rain the moment he'd ventured into the woods, but his feet kept taking him further away from the house, from Vanessa, from her family….He was irritated. But why? He practiced his meditation, something he taught himself to do when he'd worked for Hydra, where he cleared his mind of everything and became a blank slate. But when it didn't work he took out his frustration on a nearby tree, his singular fist scraping against the bark. The skin on his knuckles broke instantly, red seeping into the webs of his fingers. It felt good and distracted him. Pain had been his crutch for years, why would today be any different? He swung his arm again, fist connecting to wood, followed by a well angled kick. If it had been a person, it would have been a crushing blow to the ribs. He dodged and struck as if he were in an actual fight. The physical exertion felt good and exhausted him. _Less thinking more doing._

It brought back a memory of him on the streets in Brooklyn. His mother gave him scathing talks whenever he picked a fight, but he loved the triumph, craved it. It had all been brainless fights until Steve. He's seen him in school, a scrawny kid who was an instant target for the older kid's antics. One day, on the way home, he saw Steve being cornered in an alley. His initial intent had been to establish dominance. But when he'd knocked the boys heads together, there was no swell of pride at the end that puffed up his chest. Instead, it had been replaced with a fierceness for the kid lying on the street, huddled into himself and covering his head from the kicks and punches. He'd felt empathy that day and Steve continued to teach him that years later. It's what spurred him to enter the war years later-to fight for justice. At least that's what he told himself. But then he became the weak victim, the one who needed to be fought for. The one to be pitied, the one to be empathized with. He'd never wanted that. Hydra had made him powerful but had ripped away his pride, his stupid, stupid pride. He hit the tree harder, each punch faster than the next. He hated the unbalance of having only one arm and this only made him more angry until he finally gave up and yelled to the skies, cursing his life, cursing God. If there was one.

He laid out on the forest floor, breathing hard, his head no clearer than before. He hated this woman because of the empathy in her eyes. Like she understood him. But she couldn't. He was tired of people trying to understand him, trying to fix him. Why did she care what happened to him. What had she gone through that really made her think she could level with him? He hated all the confusion she brought him. He couldn't decide if he liked her, or despised her hopeful outlook. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep the smells of the forest. And then the rain began to fall. And he didn't care.

The flashbacks came like a flood and this time he didn't stop them. Micah's boyish grin, his tiny fingers grasping for the scraps on the dinner table. Jenny's fierce blue eyes but her soft, chocolate curls. Lily's giggle that could make anyone smile, especially on the days they didn't have dinner. Their cramped, third floor apartment where he snuck out onto the fire escape to have a smoke. The countless girls before and during the war that he whirled around on the dance floors, their pastel, taffeta dresses flying up and the drunk giggles that followed.

And then the prisoners of war. No one told you, you could be a prisoner on your own side, sitting for days in the trenches, praying something would happen. And then something did. He was exchanged to the Germans and experimented on, lying cold and frail on cots as they waited to see if you'd survive the serums. He slept for most of the time, not wanting to see their world. Until he opened them one day and Steve was standing over him, a new man….

Saved. Fighting for justice with the Howling Commandos. Bucky Barnes, the trusty sidekick to Captain America. Then exchanged once again. The cycle never seemed to have an end in mind. It was like the universe would hand him off to the highest bidder. But Vanessa...what value did she find him? He could not believe that anyone wanted anything in this world for no price. Or was she just a pawn of the Avengers, to fix him up then spit him back out to defend the world. Did he even want to do that? Or did he just feel guilty and obligated to?

His eyes flew open and the shock of the cold flooded his body all at once. He was soaked and as he hoisted himself up, he couldn't help but shiver to fight off the chill. How long had he been lying here? A dull pain throbbed in his hand and he glanced at it, swollen and bloody-and in need of attention. Vanessa would be looking for him. Or maybe not. He groaned as he shakily stood up and began to trot back to the cottage. He trusted his instinct to get him back.

* * *

Vanessa wrapped his hand with care, weaving the bandages in between his fingers to reinforce them. Neither of them said a word and James had his head bent over, resting his weight on the dining room table. She'd wait for however long it took him to speak. She'd experienced this with Sayid. After certain missions he'd come home, solemn and quiet and unable to process. During those times she looked after him silently, never pressing. And James she knew, would be the same way. She couldn't however, hide her surprise when she saw his one good hand, beaten to a bloody pulp. So he was clearly frustrated, but with what? Technically, he didn't have to tell her anything. But when she'd asked if he'd like to talk, he nodded and followed her into the house. His approach had been intimidating as he'd been so close. She still didn't know the meaning of that but his eyes had bored into her, searching her for _something_. She dipped her fingers into neosporin and rubbed it over his knuckles. She heard him suck in a breath, so she worked fast and made light conversation.

"There's leftovers in the fridge that I'll heat up for us. You okay with meatloaf and mashed potatoes?"

He lifted his head, his face drawn and tired. He had a rough 5 o'clock shadow and dark circles drooped beneath his eyes.

"Why are you doing this?"

She frowned. "What do you mean? You came to me and I'm helping you get your arm back-"

" _No_. Why are _you_ doing this? Taking care of me like this?"

 _Ah._ Now she understood. This wasn't really about her. It was a pride thing. But she of course couldn't point that out. She'd learned to tread carefully on topics like this. But she also sensed the Soldier liked directness. She kept wrapping his hand, avoiding his eyes.

"Do you think I pity you?"

He scowled. "I don't know. I asked you a question first."

She wanted to cluck her tongue but bit it instead. Men could be so stubborn. "Well, I don't if you're wondering. And I've already told you why I'm doing this. I like to help. And I don't have an angle. So, is there something else I'm doing that bothers you?"

He snatched his hand away from her, startling her in the process, and she could see he instantly regretted it as he winced and pulled his hand close to his chest. He glared up at her but the anger in his eyes wasn't for her.

"I don't want to be here in this house. I didn't ask for it but I certainly don't have a choice in it. And I didn't ask for a mom with a kid and all her baggage to be patching me up like some wounded animal. But that's the thing, I don't make choices anymore. I follow orders, because it's what I do best."

Vanessa wanted to fight back, wanted to say all the cruel things that bubbled up inside of her that would hurt him back. His words had stung, but she knew this was the product of many, many years. And somehow she got the result sitting at her kitchen table. Was she lucky or cursed? She released a breath.

"Then stop following orders and make your own damn decisions. I don't pity you and I'm not wasting time on someone who doesn't want my help. I don't want to fix you, James. I was just here as a means of help to get you where _you_ wanted to go. If you don't want to go back to the Avengers, then don't. And no one asked you to play family with me, alright? My baggage is my own. But if you choose to stay here, you have to realize we are working as a team. Things will get a little personal because you're in _my_ space. And I have rules, just like anybody else. And I was willing to fit you into my dysfunctional life, which is hard for me with a kid and family because I am putting my safety and theirs aside for yours. You are not the only one making sacrifices here. So pull your head out of your ass, Barnes and be a little grateful."

She stood up, sending her chair screeching back as she retreated to the kitchen, her cheeks flushed with anger. She'd meant to keep her cool but the man had just sparked a righteous anger in her. She threw open the fridge and aggressively began to prepare their leftovers. The anger slowly began to seep out of her bones as she warmed up their food and soon guilt panged in her chest as she realized she may have been too harsh. _God, what a way to treat a guest, Vanessa._

"I want to apologize."

For once, Vanessa wasn't startled by him. She turned to face him and he was leaning against the doorway, his hand cradled to his chest. He was a sad sight and she felt bad for him, despite what he'd said. Her heart softened towards him a bit.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you just now. You've been nothing but hospitable. " His head was bent to avoid her eyes. "I don't know what got into me."

She sighed, knowing this anger and frustration well. "I do," she said simply.

He raised his eyes to meet hers, waiting expectantly for her explanation. She pressed her back against the counter. "When Sayid died, I was so angry after the grief. I liked to ask myself why me? And I get it, you just feel like the universe tosses you around, from one form of grief to the next. I chose to go dormant. You chose to get physical." She motioned towards his hand. "You finds ways to ignore what's really going on, but it always bites you in the ass later. And I think your walk today was that bite in the ass. Or maybe not and I'm way off."

He said nothing for a moment, mulling it over before nodding. "I didn't want you to understand me. A lot of people have pretended to understand what I've been through to get what they want-that or they just take it."

"But I have nothing to gain with you, James." His name sounded less foreign on her lips and she felt comfortable using it now. "And while I have suffered, I don't want to pretend like I know anything you've been through. But know I don't expect you to pretend or present perfection. Feel what you're going to feel. If you want to express something, here's the safest place to do it. You can't do this with everyone like Roman or my mother but you can be upfront with me. I won't be pushed away easily."

His blue eyes told her he wasn't sure he believed that last promise quite yet. So he simply nodded. "I want to stay."

"Good, I hope you mean it this time. Dorset is the middle of nowhere but I've found it can be a great place for second beginnings." She smiled gently at him. "Just promise me you'll take better care of your hand...it's the only one you have at the moment."

He gave her half a smile. "Yeah...I'll do that. And if it's alright, I think I'll stay in the garage for most of the time. I don't think I can be around your family right now."

She nodded, not necessarily agreeing with him, or that it would be entirely possible but she respected his need for space. "I'll keep Roman out of your hair and Marcy will keep her distance...naturally."

And as if the wind summoned her itself, the front door burst open with her mother carrying several grocery bags and Roman trailing happily behind her. James tucked his hand behind his back and out of sight.

"Nessa, we had a wonderful time! Roman had such a great day at the program, he'll have to tell you all, later! And I have great news for you! Did you eat the leftovers?"

The woman certainly owned her space, sweeping in like the Queen of England. Her eyes sparkled with life and vibrancy, that is until she laid them on James.

"Oh James, I didn't see you there."

"We were just about to eat! But what's the great news?" She needed to get the woman's attention before she saw his bandaged hand. _So much for space from the family._ She threw James an apologetic look.

"Huh? Oh, yes." She tore her suspicious gaze from James and set down her bags. "I was talking with Lenette this afternoon and she was telling me about her nephew, Charlie. Have you seen him? He works in the shop on the corner of Daughtery? I think it's that beautiful jewelry shop I always pass by...anyway he's just around your age and-"

Vanessa stopped listening at that point, knowing exactly where this was going. Did her mother really need to do this right now after a deeply profound moment with James who was probably freaking out at the current moment being this close to her family, _again._ She needed to get him out of here before Roman waltzed in as well.

"I'll go!" She blurted out.

Marcy and James heads both snapped to look at her. She fumbled to recover. "This guy, uh...Charlie? I'll go on a date with him. Just give me his number and I'll set up a time to meet him?"

Her mother was clearly shocked and not buying it.. "Nessa you always put up a fight. I hope you're not joking, it would be rude to stand him up-"

"I won't. It's been awhile since I've been on one." She glanced at James who was very aware of the sacrifice she was making. He stepped forward, ready to intercede but she beat him to it. "How about we talk details later. James is gonna have his dinner in the garage and I need to clean up my workshop bit. And then I'll be in to have dinner with you and Roman."

She grabbed the heated up leftovers and a fork and without another word to her mother, ushered James out of the kitchen and out the front door. He didn't say a word until they reached his room.

"You didn't have to do that-"

"Ohhh, but I did. Let's not let Marcy see that hand for awhile, alright? And don't worry I've been on a thousand dates," He raised an eyebrow. "Well, not a thousand, but it all ends very fast as soon as I mention I have a kid. So, a small sacrifice to pay but I appreciate your sympathy."

She handed him his food and he sat down on the bed, struggling to grip his fork and dig in. Her hands twitched to help him out but she really didn't want to offend him or embarrass him….

"I'm sorry, but forgive the mom in me, can I just cut your food up smaller or give you a spoon so that's easier to eat?"

He had stopped mid bite, his expression a pure, " _Excuse me?"_ After a long pause, he chewed his bite and rested his fork in the dish.

She bit her lip. "Okay too far, I understand. You have your pride."

"It was thoughtful. But no thanks."

She laughed nervously. "Are we good? Are _you_ good?"

He nodded. He always did. She breathed a sigh of relief. He could either be incredibly simple or frustratingly complex. She sat down on the bed next to him.

"Is there anything I can get to you to make you feel more at home here?" She thought for sure he'd wave her off. But he thought about it for a moment before replying.

"A radio. With hits from the 20's." He smiled at her and something skipped in her chest. Without even knowing it, she pressed her palm to her chest. He noticed and gave her a quizzical look. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yes! Sorry, just occasional heartburn, nothing to worry about." She actually wasn't sure what the hell had just happened there. But she ignored it and pressed on. "I'd love to do that for you. I'm sure you'd love some of my Dad's old cd's..little after your time but still good." She laughed and looked down, and as she did, she noticed his backpack had spilled open to reveal some clothes and notebooks, five or six of them…

"What are those? You like to read?"

He followed her gaze but quickly shoved them back and out of her sight. "Yeah, I don't mind a good book."

"Well, I could grab some from the house to read when you're bored." She knew he was hiding something but she decided not to press. "I also have some more flannels and t-shirts that Sayid used to wear. They should be put to use again."

This seemed to upset him as he stood up from the bed. "They belonged to him, I don't feel right wearing them."

"It's really fine. He would have wanted them to be used rather than stuffed in the closet-"

" _Vanessa."_

He'd never used her name before this moment. So she shut up and listened. "He sounds like a man who's shoes are not easily filled."

She grew quiet, his words sinking in and the dream from her earlier nap, resurfaced. Her chest grew tight at the memory, his smiling eyes and kind face looking up at her. The sound of his voice, a deep rumble in the mornings. She gave James a faint smile. "He was a good man."

"I can tell," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it seem like you were man of the house now. It is a big role to fill." She pushed herself up from the bed and met his gaze. "But it has been awhile since there was a man in the house so forgive us if it takes some time to adjust."

"I understand."

"Well, in that case, I guess we should do some shopping-you can't be an outfit repeater or we'll start to judge." She winked and was delighted at how flustered it made him. He never knew what to do with himself when she joked. She eased his awkwardness. "Sleep well when you do, Barnes. I'll give you some time now." She made her way to the door.

" _James._ "

She stopped and turned. "What was that?"

"Just call me, James." His steady blue eyes made her heart do that stupid thing again. Vanessa squashed the feeling as soon as it arose.

"Right...James." She gave him a short smile.

She didn't even allow herself to think until she made it to the back door. She held onto the handle, willing herself to get inside and forget that stupid flutter all together but it persisted and demanded attention. It was just his appearance that threw her off. He was attractive and and the only man she'd been around for awhile, that's all it was. _But now you're starting to understand him...sure you can keep it professional, Vanessa?_ She opened the door, growling to herself to pull it together and not lose it for some angsty, wounded soldier. _And yet he isn't just that, is he?_ Her inner voice was really beginning to grate on her.

As soon as she made it through the door, Roman raced around the corner of the kitchen to meet her.

"Mom, look what we made today!" In his palm was a green blob of something that looked slimy and sticky. It had already collected hair and crumbs from most definitely being dropped onto the kitchen floor. "It's goo!" He said proudly.

"Oh wow! Looks gooey and gross!" She wrinkled her nose and Roman laughed, delighted.

"I know, Mom that's why it's cool. They taught us how to make it at home too."

"Oh really? How delightful….we'll have to start a goo factory and make a business out of it. Come on, sit on the couch with me and tell me about your day!"

He happily cuddled up next to her, chattering about the crafts they'd made and the sports he'd 'crushed' in during the summer program. Where he'd learned the word, 'crushed' was beyond her but it made her giggle nonetheless. He talked about his friends and the sleepovers he had planned and fully expected to attend which also made her laugh, but for different reasons. And then finally he dismissed himself from the couch, telling her that he needed to draw the plans for his and Jeremy's fort. (They'd build it tomorrow and would win some competition.) She loved the imagination of these little boys and told him she didn't mind at all and he better get to it.

When Roman cycled out, Marcy cycled in. She handed Vanessa her dinner and sat down next to her on the couch.

"Quite the charmer you have there." Her eyes had followed Roman to his room, and she smiled to herself. " The kid cracks me up with all of his stories from the program. I love his curiosity and wonder."

Vanessa looked to his room as well. "He reminds me of Sayid, so much."

Her mom scoffed. "No kidding! The kid is the spitting image of his father. But he's got a lot of you too." Her mother turned to her, her expression soft, her lips tilted into an easy smile. And then just like that, her mom delivered the punch. "So when are you gonna ask me to help?"

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Why ask when you knew it was coming? It's a yes or no at this point. And I can't do it by myself."

Her mother hummed in thought. "Well, if I don't help you, you'll just go looking for another person to do the job and that means more strangers on my property, soooo….I'm going to have to say yes."

Vanessa squinted her eyes. "Are you doing this because I said yes to that stupid date?"

"A-ha! I knew you didn't want to go!"

"I never want to go, Mom! I do it because you're always pushing me out there! You want me to leave the nest that bad?"

Her mother chuckled. "No, I didn't say that. I just think you might be ready to try again. I mean, is Roman gonna be it for me? You've always dreamed of having more kids."

Vanessa sighed. "When I was with Sayid, that was very probable. But I just don't know if I want to start all over again. And it would be so weird for Roman to have siblings. I mean by the time I'm pregnant again, IF that ever happens, he'll be much older than the baby."

"Oh stop it! Roman would be fine and would make an excellent older brother and you know it!"

"How did we even get here? I asked if you were going to help me, you said yes and now what?"

"When did you want to perform the surgery?"

"Soon. I was working on the skeleton today. I was thinking the end of next week? Does that give you enough time to get what you need?"

Her mother mulled it over for a moment and then shrugged. "I suppose. Depends how fast I can get the drugs."

Vanessa shook her head. "I don't think he wants to go under."

Her mother didn't seem surprised by this. "I always hated it too, but I don't want a controlling patient. I'm worried if he's awake, he'll get nervous and move around too much. I mean we're dealing with nerves here, not just stitching him up. I need steady heads and a steady patient."

"I'll talk to him."

"How is he with you?" Her mother curled her feet up onto the couch, a sign that she was getting comfortable. She grabbed her glass of wine that Vanessa hadn't seen until now and took a slow sip before continuing. " Every time I come home, you're with him and I feel as though I've interrupted the most intimate of moments."

Vanessa could feel her cheeks go hot. "Mom, I'm just trying to understand him a little better so I know what I'm dealing with."

"Right. Like you did with Sayid."

Now she was annoyed. " _Mom._ He is not Sayid."

Her mother stared her down and for a second she was nervous that her mother would see something there that even she didn't see yet. Marcy had a 6th sense for that kind of stuff. She finally looked away and sipped at her wine again. "You're right, forgive me. But convince me by actually going on that date with Charlie. I gotta good feeling about this one."

"Have you seen him?"

Her mother raised an eyebrow mischievously. "I have. Easy on the eyes if you ask me."

Vanessa smirked and held out her hand. Marcy placed a piece of paper with his number written on it. "I'll text him. Just don't get too excited. It's one date."

Her mother lifted herself off the couch with a little grunt. "One date is all it took for me and your father."

"Yeah, well, I found the love of my life and then lost him. Hard not to compare every other man to him."

Her mother gave her a sad smile. "I know, baby. And no one's telling you to settle for any less. But he can be a good man in different ways."

Vanessa hummed in agreement. She would be patient for the right guy, if there was another to be had in her life. Her mother kissed her forehead and whispered goodnight before leaving Vanessa alone in the living room. She pulled out her phone and typed in Charlie's number. She wrote out several drafts of ways to introduce herself and set up a date but it just didn't feel right. She decided she'd check him out first, maybe drop by the shop? The whole thing made her feel silly and nervous. She hated that most about dates, feeling like she had no control over how it would go and the initial awkwardness of just getting to know someone. It sucked, plain and simple.

Before closing out her messages, her eyes glanced over the texts exchanged between her and her mystery contact. A sudden fear bubbled up inside of her, that their Tuesday meeting could be a setup. Should she tell James? He could come with her as backup, but what if her contact saw that coming? She was disturbed by the fact that they knew about her family. And Roman. Roman was her main concern. She listened closely and smiled when she heard him humming to himself in the bedroom, working on the plans for his grand fort. She hated herself for not thinking more of him today. It would have been safer to go through Clint... _Instead you made James and his arm the priority._ She couldn't argue with herself on that. That and the stupid flutter that she prayed to God would go away. She couldn't deny it, but she could ignore it. She resolved that tomorrow morning would be spent scoping out Charlie. A distraction from the thing distracting her…..worth a shot.


	7. Charlie

Chapter 7

He woke up at 4 and couldn't go back to sleep. He'd distracted himself with the notebooks for a while but realized as he flipped through, that none of the words were sticking. He threw them on the floor, frustrated, and rolled the covers back. If his body wasn't going back to sleep, he would just do his workout routine earlier.

His hand throbbed as he did his pushups but he grit his teeth, pushing through the pain. He remembered his promise to Vanessa to keep his one hand in good shape, so he begrudgingly stopped at 100. He mixed in some cardio and then wished he had a punching bag to at least land some kicks on. But without it, he settled on some crueling core workouts that didn't involve his hands but left him short of breath and _almost_ exhausted enough to sleep, but at this point he just wanted to shower and get through the day. He stripped down and stepped out of his clothes, turning on the shower while he fumbled around for a toothbrush and toothpaste to get rid of his morning breath. But unfortunately, everything was harder for a man with one arm and a banged up hand. He managed the task, but not without a few choice words. Then he hopped into the shower, brushing his teeth while the hot water hit his back. The steam from the shower and the warm water felt so good that he allowed his eyes to close for a moment as he slowed his brushing movements. He could feel toothpaste dribbling down his chin but he could care less. Showers had always been a secret guilty pleasure, even if he only spent less than 10 minutes in one. It was one of the only times his body and mind could totally relax.

After drying off and neglecting to put clothes on, (had he learned from Vanessa barging in? Not really.) he examined his chin, rubbing the back of his hand against the stubble that had passed from a nice 5 o'clock shadow to making him look like a grubby hobo. Time to shave. He lathered up his face and pulled out his razor, praying a silent prayer that his one hand would stay steady. His pride would really take a hit if he cut himself, even if the problem was caused by him ruining his good hand in the first place...

The heavens must have heard him because the job was done without a hitch. He pulled out his aftershave that Romanoff had given him as a little joke, but the smell of it brought him back to his days in the Army. It was a rare occasion when him and the boys were able to spruce up, but when they did, they made sure to look handsome and smell irresistible. The good girls were definitely not turning down a man in uniform that night. So joke or not, he silently thanked Romanoff for thinking of his hygiene and sex appeal. Even if he was sure with that last one, he had none left.

As he patted it across his cheeks and neck, he heard someone stirring in the garage and he froze, realizing he was still as naked as the day he was born. But he stayed still, knowing he could just shut himself into the bathroom again if needed. After a minute or two, whoever was there left, and he heard the garage door slam behind them. He figured it was Vanessa, but just to make sure, he grabbed a pair of sweats and tugged them on before opening his door to glance out. It was empty, but on the worktable, Vanessa had left him a plate of eggs, bacon and toast along with a steaming cup of coffee. He approached it, drawn by the smell that made his mouth water, and he picked up the note she'd left beside it.

 _I have some work to do in the shop. If you need anything, I wrote my number and address of the garage at the bottom, so you can reach me. Help yourself to stuff in the fridge for lunch. Be back before dinner,_

 _Vanessa_

 _P.S DON'T TOUCH YOUR HAND. Let it heal. Thanks._

He grumbled and rolled his eyes at that last bit but knew she would lose it if he didn't do as she'd asked. He grabbed a stool and hunched over his breakfast, shoveling it into his mouth and paying no mind to manners. He was alone, who was gonna see?

The garage door swung gently open, and he paused mid-chew as Marcy waltzed into the lab. She saw him, registered him, and still jumped as if she'd been startled. Must be an old lady thing, they were always jumpy. Though he didn't think Marcy would appreciate being called an old lady.

"Sorry, still not used to a man in my garage." Her eyes surveyed him with a look of disapproval. He was sure he was a sight. A shirtless, barefoot man with scrambled eggs hanging off the side of his mouth. At least he'd shaved. "Vanessa wanted me to check on you, make sure you were up and had everything you needed. You can swallow that bite now."

He forgot he'd been holding food in his mouth, and he swallowed reflexively, blushing like a schoolboy. He brushed the egg off his face and without thinking sat taller in his chair.

"Sorry about that," he choked out. "I thought I'd be alone for a bit. Let me grab a shirt."

Marcy nodded and turned to the side as he went in the room and threw on a shirt. The woman made him feel like he was reporting to an admiral. He came back out, still feeling like a speck under the woman, (which he mentally added, no one had made him feel that way in a while) but felt much more respectable, fully clothed.

Marcy seemed to approve as well. "Much better. Anything I can get you?"

"No, I think I'll be fine."

She seemed to like that answer and he was sure it was because she didn't want to spend another minute with him. But there was a playful glint in her eyes that made him second guess that thought. She stepped back into the rows of shelves and rummaged around until she emerged again with a small box that looked like it had speakers built into it. His curiosity must have been obvious because Marcy chuckled as she plugged it in.

"Now, I know I'm speeding things up on you by a couple decades, but it's just 'cause I don't have a lot of cassette tapes lying around-and this is easier. They're called "boomboxes" You stick CD's in them and if you want, you can also surf radio stations. Your choice, but-"

She walked back into the jungle of shelves and brought out a stack of what he could only assume were CD's. "-these aren't bad either. They were my husband's. Just stick them in, hit the CD mode and hit play."

He nodded, feeling foolish. Like Steve, he had to learn about all the things they'd missed while time had sped on without them. Even though he'd been in the modern world as a HYDRA agent, he hadn't really had time to catch up on the newest technology or fads. But it was hard not to feel stupid when everyone else thought sending a text was the easiest thing and you still couldn't fathom how messages were sent through these tiny little devices. He still despised using iphones or androids, annoyed by all the extra features. So he stuck with the good ole flip phone.

Marcy sighed and crossed her arms, her go-to posture. "You all set, then?"

"Yes...thank you."

"You're welcome. When you're ready for lunch come on in and get it. And if you want to eat in this dinky garage, be my guest. But you're welcome to eat in the kitchen."

He nodded and she smiled, the playfulness gone, replaced with her bland politeness. As she turned and left, James let himself enjoy the smallest of smiles. Marcy didn't hate him as much as she pretended to. But with her presence gone, he was now left with how to fill his day. How many things could a one armed man do? Time to find out.

What he really wanted to do was take a ride into town and survey the area. He still didn't know what it looked like. But the only option in transportation was his motorcycle. And James was a confident man but trying to drive it one handed would be impossible and stupid. Did he call in a favor with Marcy? She could drop him off in the town...It would be less flashy of an entrance, as the bike would carry too much interest in such a small town, where everybody knew everybody. He knew that with a couple well placed compliments, as Vanessa had suggested, Marcy would give in and probably give him a ride. But how would he not draw attention to his missing arm? He looked around the shop, as his mind began working. _Aha_. Now that could work…

* * *

Vanessa cursed like a sailor every time she was in the shop. Maybe it was the atmosphere, or the guys she worked with, with their equally trashy mouths but she couldn't resist. With Roman around, she'd learned to curb her colorful vocabulary but in the shop, the "Mom-Vanessa" was gone. Well, mostly. She let loose another curse when she didn't apply enough tension on her wrench and it bounced back to hit her in the forehead. Rookie mistake. But she'd been distracted all day, the plans for James' bionic arm fighting for dominance against her work.

So she'd done a couple of the jobs herself to focus back on the mechanics, mostly working on oil changes or changing out tires-simple stuff. She worked on one guys transmission for a challenge and managed to make some headway. It was definitely going to be a longer fix. But around lunch time, she wiped her hands clean and decided she'd make a run into town for lunch. She stopped into _Frank's Pizza Shop_ to grab a sub and sat down at a little round table next to the window. Across the street on the corner of Daughtery and Main, was a little jewelry shop named _Serendipity_.

She studied the cursive letters and the design of the little shop and wondered how a "Charlie" worked in such a spot. Did he own it? Or was he employed there? Strange place for a man to be working. She didn't mean to judge, but she'd grown up all her life with men who worked in trades and with their hands in grimy, rough conditions-and they loved it. But the whole look of this store was dainty and sweet and it certainly fit the quaint, little town. Dorset wasn't barren or run down, just small. But she just didn't know if the man inside it would really mesh well with her taste. Dainty and sweet sure wasn't it.

But still, her curiosity kept wanting to tug her inside and figure out who this man was. She really just wanted to be disappointed as she knew she probably would be because then the whole embarrassing process would be over sooner. She crumpled up her sub wrapper and shot it into the trash can, while calling out a farewell to old Frank. Once outside, she eyed the shop across the street one final time and with a sigh, she crossed the road to seal her decision.

When she entered the shop, a tiny bell rang, announcing her arrival. She cringed, hoping to have gone unnoticed for a little longer. She prayed it wasn't Charlie who received her first. She hesitated in front of the door, ready to bolt if needed, but nobody came. She carefully stepped into the room and began to wander toward the various display cases. Diamonds winked behind the glass and silver and gold glittered in the afternoon sunshine. She moved on and saw rubies and emeralds, set into beautiful bands that enhanced the already beautiful stones. She stopped when she came to the rose gold jewelry and smiled to herself-her personal favorite. The selection wasn't much as it wasn't a popular choice but Vanessa enjoyed the pieces-just not the price tags. Her own wedding ring had been rose gold, a pear shaped diamond with a halo of smaller diamonds crowning the top and bottom of it. It was wonderfully unique and she'd loved Sayid's choice. Most times she wore it. Other days, it was a painful reminder.

"Like what you see?"

Even though the man's voice had been gentle, Vanessa still jumped and gasped audibly, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. She could hear the guilt in his voice as he calmed her down and apologized.

"I'm so sorry, I thought you heard me coming in! Are you alright?"

She laughed breathlessly, trying to calm the pittering in her chest. "Yeah, no...I'm good, thanks." She finally looked at him directly and smiled.

She hadn't really gotten a good look at him, being so startled and all, but she was shocked all over again at the man standing before her. He had to be over six feet tall, with beautiful broad shoulders and a muscular build. And the most handsome face she'd seen in Dorset, Vermont to date. He had a soft mouth, with full lips that smiled at her gently, but his jaw was sharp and square, covered in a trimmed stubble. His eyes were a beautiful, molten brown and they glowed in the sun, looking at her amusingly. He had thick dark eyebrows that matched his dark hair, combed over to the side. It looked effortlessly messy but tidy at the same time. She realized she'd been gawking at him a moment too long and quickly averted her gaze. But she was sure he'd noticed, so she covered herself quickly and pointed at the case.

"I was admiring the rose gold. You don't see people choosing it a lot." She shyly looked up at him, hoping he would ignore the moment before.

He nodded, a twinkle in his eye. " It's a less traditional choice, but I do think it's very underrated. Do you happen to own anything in rose gold, yourself?"

Her fingers brushed over where her wedding band should've been, but she hadn't worn it today, fearing it would get too dirty while she worked in the shop. She didn't really want to explain to him why she didn't have it on now, he was still technically a stranger.

"I have a rose gold ring that I wear occasionally. Probably should wear it more often." Not a lie, but not the full truth either. Again she peered up at him, expecting him to see right through her but he showed no signs of knowing anything else but the present moment.

"You have good taste. I happen to think the rose gold would look lovely on your darker complexion." He smiled at her politely. She knew he probably paid a compliment like this to every woman that walked in but she still blushed. As she was sure every other woman before her had. He was smooth and she still trying to fathom what a man like him was doing in this tiny jewelry shop. So she decided to just ask him.

She looked at him carefully. "Have you always been here?"

He laughed, sensing the switch she wanted to make. "I have not. Do you come here often?"

Now controlling the conversation, Vanessa strolled with more ease around the room. "No, not often. But often enough to know you weren't here before."

There was that damn twinkle again. "Well, you're right. I've only been here a couple weeks. My father owns the business, my aunt-his sister-decorates the store and manages it. And then I, well I bring back these little beauties and set them into bands, necklaces, bracelets, you name it. I just recently came back from a trip to Africa-brought back some beautiful pearls from the East Coast and diamonds from Botswana, beautiful clarity I might add-would you like to see them?"

She just stared, unsure whether or not to believe him. She suddenly wished she had her mother along to fact check. The woman knew everyone in this town.

"You don't believe me?" He stood with his palms on the counter, leaning forward in a relaxed manner and a grin that meant trouble for her poor, poor focus.

"What's your name?" She challenged him. This might not be Charlie, she could be wrong-

"Charlie, pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand forward.

Warily, she stepped forward and shook it. "Vanessa." Alright so she was wrong. This was Charlie. She hated when her mother was right. "Sorry if I'm skeptical. I just have never seen you before. But it sounds like you really have been traveling quite a bit. How do you like Dorset?"

He tilted his head, examining her and she grew still, wondering what he could be focusing on. His eyes never stayed on one spot for too long. " I like Dorset." He said finally. "I grew up here, actually. I was hoping to stay for awhile and take care of my Dad."

She couldn't believe he actually liked this place. Most travelers would have hated the quaint, little town if they stayed for more than a week. "Oh? Is your father ill?" She knew she was being nosy, but she couldn't stop herself.

He sighed and stood up to his full height and she was again reminded how broad the man was. "Just old age, really. But if he doesn't start taking care of himself it could easily result in a stroke. So, I'm back to make sure he keeps his health a priority." She nodded, knowing all too well how her own father was in his old age. _Stubborn._ "So, what about you? Have you been here for awhile? I don't remember you from my childhood. I think I would have remembered your face." He smiled with a hint of teasing. She deserved it for being so frank in the beginning.

She laughed and hated how nervous it sounded to her own ears. She hoped he didn't hear it as well. "I moved in with my mother after my father passed. About 7 years ago."

His expression was solemn. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was gone is those years."

"It's alright, I think he died happy." She offered him a small smile and in her mind completed the thought. _He died happy, getting to hold his grandson._ But he didn't need to know that quite yet.

"So. Is there anything in particular you wanted to look at while you're here?" At least he could sense when to switch topics. But she'd been so distracted with her "reconnaissance" that she'd forgotten to come up with a decent excuse. Her mind of course went blank.

"Uh, well-no." She shifted awkwardly but the words weren't coming. _Elegant, Vanessa, real elegant._

"Oh, I see. Maybe you weren't here for the jewelry?"

Their eyes met and Vanessa's face went hot. She didn't know how he knew, but _he knew._ His eyes and that amused glint were all she needed for confirmation. Suddenly all the excuses flooded into her brain, much too late.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spy-"

He held up his hands in a gesture of "enough" and she shut her mouth, as he began to chuckle to himself. He looked her in the eye.

"Honestly? I'm flattered. When my aunt had mentioned the blind date, I'd wanted nothing to do with it. But since you've strolled in here on your own accord and introduced yourself to me, I may have to reconsider…"

She felt so wonderfully dumb standing there, caught in her own act, feeling totally embarrassed but much more than that, warm and very, _very_ happy. She couldn't remember the last time in the past seven years that she'd felt this excitement. And then she realized that if she didn't say anything in the next 10 seconds he would think she was totally crazy.

"I would love to go out...sometime." She blurted. She knew how stupid she sounded and just laughed at herself. "I'm sorry, can we just admit this is weird? I really didn't mean to spy on you like this, it's just that I've been on so many terrible dates and I didn't think I could bare one more. And then I get here and you're really not what I had in my mind-not that I'm upset, you're beautiful-" He laughed and she joined him, trying to catch her breath. "-and I'd really love to go out sometime. Forgive me?"

He smiled gently and nodded. "I can do weird, we're all right. And you're forgiven for a completely reasonable spying job and how about tomorrow night? Ever been to _Bella's_?"

She nodded, smiling ear to ear. "Sounds great. I love _Bella's."_

"Then it's a date-you have my number?"

He was so confident with her and she wished she could be as smooth as him. "I have it, no worries...your aunt has mine?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I've had this whole time, just didn't have the guts to text you anything."

They both laughed and then the lull in their laughter announced her imminent departure. "Well, I gotta get back to the shop, but it was really nice meeting you. Great store-your aunt does a lovely job."

"Thank you, I'll pass on your compliment. But before you go, would mind if I, uh-"

He stepped around the counter and walked toward her and Vanessa was frozen to the spot. He was so close to her as he reached his hand to her cheek. What on earth was he trying to do, pull a move already-

"Sorry, you've got a smudge of grease on our cheek. You've had it the whole time, I just didn't want to be rude." His thumb brushed over said smudge and as he pulled it away, she could see the dark residue. She blushed crimson. _It had been there the whole time? Dear God what had she looked like this whole time!?_

"Th-thank you," she managed to stammer out. She touched her face, hoping it was all gone. She didn't even want to know what her hair looked like.

"Welcome. Hey, just means you're a working woman nothing wrong with that." He winked. "Anyway, have a good night, Vanessa. See you soon."

She walked backwards toward the door, keeping her eyes on him. _Scoundrel_. Winking at her like that. "Yeah, you have a good night as well."

As he disappeared into the back, she pushed back against the door and spun back out into the street….and smacked right into someone's chest. She spluttered and backed up, trying to get her bearings and see who she had bulldozed into. She looked up into familiar icy, blue eyes.

"JAMES?" she asked incredulously.

How in the hell had he gotten to town? And what about his arm? Had something happened? She was plagued with questions and yet none of them came out. "What..?"

"Marcy," He replied calmly, as if that answered all her questions. Well, it did answer one.

" _My mom_? What, did she give you a ride?" Didn't sound like something Marcy would do.

"Yes. To the garage. But you weren't there. So I asked and they said you have lunch at _Frank's_ most days…"

She cursed under her breath. Those lousy men, giving her whereabouts to a complete stranger-

"I lied and said I was your boyfriend. And Marcy dropped me off. So they had no reason to think differently and not tell me."

She stared at him, wondering how he could be so matter of fact right now with her. It was aggravating. Not to mention there would be lots of questions about her "boyfriend" the next day. She decided to reprimand him for that later. "Okay, _anyways,_ is there something you-"

"Who was that man?" He glared through the store window and she jumped when she realized they hadn't moved an inch. She prayed Charlie hadn't seen any of this. She grabbed his arm and quickly dragged him away from window, while also checking herself out and realizing she did look as terrible as she'd imagined. _Great._

"No one important. I stopped in to have a look around. But why are you here?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I wanted to have a look around as well."

Well she couldn't find anything wrong with that. But did it have to be today?

"He seemed friendly." She looked at him, flustered, and he eyed her suspiciously. Unlike Charlie, he did see through all her moves. _Whatever._ What did she have to lose?

"Okay, yes, that's Charlie. How long were you standing out here?"

"About five minutes. I was across the street in _Frank's_. I wouldn't be so obvious as to stand right in front of the store."

 _Of course not. You're an ex-assassin, your goal is to go undetected._ She loved how one minute the man wanted nothing to do with her personal life and the next he was sniffing out her future dates. She didn't want to talk about Charlie with him. Right now she still had many questions and wanted to get as far from this store as possible.

"Walk back to the shop with me. And please tell me, what the hell you did to your arm."

* * *

So apparently he'd stuffed his sleeve with a towel and some duct tape to keep its form and he had resurrected the hand from his old prosthetic to stick at the end of it. She guessed, if you only gave it a quick glance, you wouldn't notice it. But having a moment to take it in, it was a terrible and lumpy, imitation of his arm. Points for creativity though. Now, he sat next to her in the car as they drove home, fixing his gaze on the road and not saying a word. She took a chance, engaging him in conversation.

"So, how did you like Dorset?"

His eyes flicked over to her then back on the road. "It's small."

She nodded, holding back a smile. "Well...at least you don't hate it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not yet." She laughed. He was always honest, that was for sure.

"Okay, I have to ask because I'm dying of curiosity-how did you get Marcy to bring you to town?"

His lips twitched. "I may have paid a couple compliments to her garden."

"You did not!" She gaped at him. "And it worked? You took my advice after all." She allowed herself a small, smug smile. "Man...she warmed up to you in one morning. Unbelievable. She's still the Frost Queen with me and it's been 26 years..."

"You're 26?"

She ignored him. "You must've been bored and desperate."

He looked annoyed. "I'm _not_ desperate. And your mother could still freeze me over with a glance if she wanted to."

They sat in silence for a moment before they both broke out simultaneously into laughter-well, James chuckled quietly, but she appreciated his humor in the moment.

"God, I'm sorry, she can be a lot. But I love her so much. She's a... _fierce_ woman. She's finding the balance in not being too overbearing, you know?"

He nodded in agreement and a silence settled again between the two of them. She didn't want to annoy him with too much conversation.

"So are you going on a date with him?"

He broke the silence this time but she really wish he hadn't. But why did she care what he had to think?

"Yeah, I think I will." Were her cheeks getting red? She couldn't tell anymore but she didn't want James to see it.

"Guess it didn't have to be a sacrifice after all."

She looked over at him and his face showed no expression except his eyes-a flash of mischief that was gone in a second.

"Yeah. I guess it isn't all bad."

They didn't speak for the rest of the ride.

* * *

"Vanessa, that's wonderful. I'll take care of Roman while you're out. But I expect all the details when you get back."

They all sat at the dinner table, minus James, and Vanessa stroked Roman's messy curls while he wolfed down his dinner. She smiled at him and maybe smiled at the thought of her date tomorrow night. She just had this feeling that tomorrow would be better than all the dates before. But she needed to keep her wits about her before she became too swept up in the idea-she had Roman to think about.

"That would be great Mom, thank you. James will be in the garage for the night, he might need some dinner but other than that, he'll keep to himself."

Marcy nodded and took another bite of dinner as Vanessa smirked. Her mother somehow caught the look.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. You drove James into town today?" She took a bite of her own dinner and raised an eyebrow.

"Nessa, please. I'm not heartless. And you can't keep him cooped up all day."

"Hmm. So, did he compliment your sunflower garden? Or was it your cooking? I gotta know what works with you."

He mother chewed and pretended not to hear her. But after a moment, her lips parted into a devious smile. "You know, I think it was a peek at the man's physique that did it for me."

"Mom!" She gawked at her mother who was still giggling. "When did you have a chance to see that?"

She waved her fork towards the garage. "This morning-he was scarfing down his breakfast like some ragamuffin orphan when I walked in on him-bare chest and all. You should've seen the look on his face!"

Vanessa covered her mouth as she tried to stop the smile tugging at her lips, but it persisted anyway. She shook her head at her mother. "You are something else."

"What?" She threw up her hands. "Can I not enjoy some beauty? He's staying on my property, for God's sake. And I'm the one stitching him up, what is it, Friday? If he can't pay, I'll take that one peek as my price."

"Peek at what?" Roman had piped into the conversation now, his dinner finished.

"Nothing, my love. Grandma is just being silly."

Somehow, at 7 years old, Roman was already too smart for that diversion.

"Are you talking about the man in the garage, Mommy? I want to take a peek at him too."

"Oh, honey, not like that." She pretended to frown at Marcy who was trying to compose herself. "And we're not supposed to bother him, okay? He needs time alone."

"Why?"

She cringed-her favorite word with Roman. He had to understand how everything worked and " _just because,"_ and " _because, I said so,"_ were slowly becoming less effective. She sighed. She would have to try her best.

"Well you see.." She paused, struggling on how to refer to James…

"Mr. James?" Roman offered his input and blinked up at her innocently. Mr. James would work just fine. James would never have to know.

"Yup, Mr. James. He needs space because sometimes...he hurts inside. You know, when your feelings get hurt and you want to get away from other people and just cuddle with Mommy? Well, Mr. James sometimes needs to get away from people so he can feel better."

Roman's brow crinkled as he thought about that. And it stayed that way moments later as he fixed his eyes back on her.

"But Mommy? Who gives him a hug when he needs one? You give me one to feel better."

She was trapped. "Uh, well, Mr. James doesn't need one because he's a grown up." She crossed her fingers in her head.

Roman's eyes grew wide. "You mean when I grow up, I'll never get hugs from you again?" He looked like he was about to cry and her heart melted-he'd always been a sensitive one.

"No, no, no, it's not like that, Honey." She hoisted him onto her lap and threw her a mother a desperate look _-Help!_ Her mother raised an eyebrow as if to say, " _You got yourself in this mess, figure it out."_ That was just Marcy's way.

"Alright, listen Mister." Roman peered up at her through his long, dark eyelashes. "You will always get hugs from me, because I will always be your mother." She nuzzled his nose and he giggled. "But Mr. James-" she continued, "-is different. I don't think he wants hugs or help. Some people like to do things by themselves and that's okay too."

Roman sucked in his bottom lip and thought about it. "Did you ask him?"

"Ask him what?"

"If he wanted a hug?"

 _This kid's attention to detail_. She tried to stifle her laughter because she didn't want to offend him-his question was valid.

"You know, I haven't asked him yet. But I'll make sure I do, just in case he needs one." Roman beamed at her, happy with her response.

"Thanks, Momma. Can I go play in my room now?"

She kissed him on the cheek and set him down on the floor. "You may my love! I'll come in later...you'll have to tell me how your fort building went!

He scampered away and she began to pick up their dinner dishes. Marcy fixed a smirk on her and Vanessa knew what was coming.

"So….you do realize you have to ask him now. You know, if he needs a hug?"

Vanessa rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen. "Shut up."

* * *

He'd been tempted the whole night to turn on the desktop and hear the conversations that must be going on about Vanessa's date for tomorrow night. But so far he had resisted the urge. He didn't feel right after that first night, checking the monitors. And besides, he had sworn isolation from the family whenever he could afford it. But tonight, he was especially ansty-and annoyed.

He didn't really care for the date, or the fact that Vanessa even wanted to go on one. He agreed that it would be good for her. But when said date landed in the middle of their plans to fix his arm; that's when it annoyed him. He didn't have time for Vanessa to be swept up into some romance because it would waste the precious time needed to fix his arm. Couldn't she just wait to spark a romance until after he left? There were already too many factors stealing her time and energy; the mechanics shop, her son and duty as a mother, her mother and now Charlie. And in the lineup, he was pretty sure he was dead last in priority. But of course he wouldn't mention this to Vanessa, maybe just remark on it passive aggressively. _Curb your tongue,_ he reminded himself. Now wasn't the time to be spewing insults or complaining. There was a chance the date could go wrong and then he'd have nothing to worry about.

As he got ready for bed, the pull to wake up the monitors became harder to resist. The soldier in him argued it would be safe to just check and make sure nothing suspicious was going on. But the more humane part of him knew they needed their privacy and they weren't a suspicious family to begin with. He propped himself up against his pillows and pulled out a notebook, starting from the beginning. The first page had scribbles of thought in random places around the page but in the very center he had written, _Home: Bay Ridge, Brooklyn._ Beside it he had scribbled numbers and then crossed them out as he'd tried to determine the street number.

He don't know why it was so important for him to write his old address down. The street numbers could have changed by now, the apartment building probably torn down. But even now, looking at the address, he knew he wanted to go back and see it. He'd walk up to the third floor and climb out onto the fire escape. It wouldn't be home anymore but it could be something familiar. But that was a pipe dream. He'd never have time to go see it.

He flipped through the other pages nonchalantly, adding little notes here and there but his eyes were growing tired. That is until a flicker of light on the desk caught his eye. He stared at the computer screen which had awoken all by itself and now showed the four seperate screens. He squinted at it, wondering how such a device could turn on by itself. Had it read his thoughts earlier? He didn't think this computer was that advanced, but he still got up and approached it cautiously. He glanced at the screens because he was of course, curious, but no one stirred in the house. He sighed, already feeling guilty even though it wasn't him who turned it on. He moved to the mouse to turn it off, when movement in the kitchen distracted him.

Vanessa entered, her eyes locked on her cell phone which she was currently frowning at. She paced the length of the kitchen and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her face was a mixture of fear and anticipation. He sat down and watched her keenly as she did this, trying to decipher what was causing her distress. Suddenly, her phone pinged as a message came in. She jumped on it, scanning it quickly with her eyes. After a moment, her shoulders slumped down as the tension was released from her body. She locked her phone and tossed it on the table, as she pushed the hair back from her face and rubbed her eyes. She seemed relieved but there was still a hint of worry.

He frowned. A text from Charlie wouldn't have caused this reaction. He'd seen her in the jewelry shop earlier today and she was smitten. The way she'd tilted her hips and flipped her hair back and how easily she laughed. Or that ridiculous move where he brushed the grease from her face and she stood there completely entranced...she was attracted to him, that much was obvious. But this message was stressing her out. He'd met everyone that he needed to know. But maybe Vanessa did have some secrets of her own. He watched as she exited and retreated into her bedroom. His mind began doing the work; if he hadn't met the person she'd been texting, then they didn't come here. And Vanessa didn't travel far except for the town and her job, to be close by for Roman. Which meant whoever she was talking to had to be close-but not necessarily someone she felt comfortable with. Perhaps if he managed to follow her in her day tomorrow, he would set eyes on the mystery man or woman.

He couldn't decipher if the need to know who they were came from his curiosity or if he felt the need to protect Vanessa; or even still, protect himself. If someone was threatening her and it was to get to him...an anger swelled up inside of his chest. He couldn't let that happen. Vanessa would be furious if she knew he planned to follow her but if they were gonna work together, then she'd have to play by some of his rules too. The only question still in his mind as he uneasily fell asleep was how the hell he'd get another ride to town….


	8. Date Night

GUYS. FORGIVE ME. Life has been crazy but I have been itching to get back to this story and I promise, I have not given up on it! Please enjoy this longer chapter and let me know what you think

~Kat

Chapter 8

She laced her thumb into the handle of her mug and took a long sip. She noticed the slight tremors in the liquid as she failed to keep her hands steady. She immediately put her latte down and replaced one nervous habit for the next- tapping her feet on the cafe floor. She'd been waiting for ten minutes now and still no sign of her contact. Every time the door opened and that obnoxious little bell rang, her head swiveled and her heart leapt. But no one out of the ordinary had come in, they were all locals. But then an awful thought crept into her mind… " _What if the contact was a local who'd been spying on her this whole time?"_ The conspiracy of course didn't line up with the timelines since this contact had been made in her schooling. _But still..._

She growled with frustration under her breath and rubbed her temples. When had she become such a conspiritist? There was absolutely no way she'd be able to focus on her date tonight with Charlie, she'd just be an anxious mess.

As she looked up from the table, a simple white envelope had been placed in front of her, her name scrawled across it hastily. She quickly looked around, but no one was near her table, everyone either in the line or sitting at their respective corners and tables. A chill went down her spine. _How?_ Was the only resounding thought in her mind. She grabbed the letter and ripped it open, noticing the stamp was a panther, who's glowing eyes glared at her. _Interesting choice of postage,_ she thought to herself.

She expected a formal note inside, but instead found a yellow sheet of steno pad paper, folded up. She had to laugh just a little, as it was so odd and out of place compared to what it came in. But then again, she'd used this same paper in her lab when she wrote notes. _When she wrote notes back in the Academy..._ her memories filled in the blanks as the realization flooded her all at once. This had to be from her contact. They'd used the same notepad paper back in the Academy to leave her notes. But if she was receiving a note from them now, it meant she definitely wouldn't be seeing them today. A part of her was secretly relieved as her eyes scoured over the note.

 _Vanessa,_

 _I'm sorry I couldn't make it today. Circumstances have changed….our communication will have to cease for awhile. But I have had the vibranium delivered to your shop along with some notes on how to craft it. I'm doing all I can to keep you safe from the outside but be on the lookout for anything or anyone new. I'm not positive but I think someone may be tracking your friend. Tell the Soldier. And tell him greetings from Wakanda. I know you worry-but if you can trust anyone, it's him._

 _-Shuri_

The name didn't spark any memories. She knew she had never met a Shuri and Wakanda did not sound familiar-but apparently the Soldier would have an idea of who and where she was. Was it a coincidence that her mystery contact also happened to know the Soldier? That would explain her interest in helping Vanessa rebuild his arm. Even though the letter was vague and and short, she felt like some of her fears had been quieted. She had slowly been putting more of her trust in James and even Shuri was urging her to do so. It made her trust Shuri a little more-maybe she could also see the good man who lay under the surface of a troubled past.

Vanessa looked up from the letter and was met with those brilliant, blue eyes she was getting real familiar with. Was she surprised that he was sitting across from her? No. She had a feeling he'd follow her again. She'd actually prayed he would in case things went wrong.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I know."

She just shook her head, trying not to smile. "I should just offer rides every morning, so I at least know you're coming."

"It would make things a lot easier."

She raised an eyebrow. Was he being playful? She always expected business with him first, play on special occasions. His eyes dropped to the letter on the table. Nevermind. She sighed and slid the letter across the table to him. There was no use keeping it a secret now. "I should have told you sooner. I was supposed to meet her in person...to get vibranium."

His eyes scoured over the letter but at the mention of vibranium, they snapped back up to her. "You should have told me."

She bit her lip, wondering if there was an outcome of this conversation that didn't end with James hating her. She distracted herself by focusing on the empty sleeve of his sweater. At least he hadn't attempted to stuff it will a towel and duct tape this time.

"Listen, I know I should have said something. But I didn't want to involve you in case things went south-"

"-That's _exactly_ why you should have involved me."

She had expected his voice to be sharp but instead it was full of concern and disappointment. She took a chance and peered up at him timidly, answering him quietly. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to give away your location."

He studied her for a moment, anger burning in his eyes. She could tell he wanted to be mad with her but was holding himself back. She almost wished he wouldn't. Without a word, his gaze flicked back to the letter, which he held tightly in his one hand. After scanning it again, his eyelids pressed close as he sucked in a long, calming breath before beginning again with her.

"It just so happens that Shuri is a friend. But she may have brought more trouble than help to us. She likely wasn't given permission to send vibranium, so she's taking a risk transporting it-it draws attention because it's so rare. If someone found out that she had given it to you without clearance or caught wind of the transportation route…."

He trailed off and didn't finish but Vanessa could finish the thought for them. _Shuri would be in trouble and so would they._ She could tell his mind was trying to work out all the possible outcomes. Vanessa felt it was best to keep her mouth shut as she had no comfort to offer. The truth was, if things did go south it would be entirely her fault and she knew it. And James did too, but didn't voice it.

"I think-" He looked at her, his expression softening, "-that we'll be safe. I'll keep an eye out. But I'd prefer to stay close in case whoever is looking for us targets you or your family."

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "What do they want from you, James? And how do you know Shuri through all of this?"

He didn't meet her eyes. Instead he stared out the front window of the cafe, watching the people and cars pass by. The afternoon sun was blazing through the glass and it illuminated half of his face, the other half cast in shadow. He looked how he always looked to Vanessa, half in the light, half in the dark. _Sometimes with the living and other times, keeping company with the ghosts from his past._ Was Shuri one of these ghosts? She felt even more confused than when James had first arrived. She had more questions than she began with and she was beginning to feel that she really had no idea what she'd gotten into. She thought it was a safe job to take on at the time, but already someone was looking for him and his arm wasn't even repaired….

She reached across the table and lightly placed her hand over his. It was cold to the touch but she didn't pull away, even when he flinched.

"James, I don't have to know. If you think we're safe for now, then I trust you. And if not, I'll follow your lead. I'm not gonna spend time worrying about it."

He didn't say anything back, only inclined his head slightly. For the first time, she sensed he was worried and he had every right to be. But he wasn't one to show it. The emotion passed over his face and then was gone.

"Can the surgery be done this week?"

Vanessa pulled her hand back. _He wants to leave._ She knew it in her heart and head but something in her didn't want him gone so soon. She had so many questions and things to learn about him- _Like you did with Sayid._ Her mother's words rang in her ear, and her face burned. No. That's not what she was doing. She just couldn't rush the surgery or the repairs. He'd have to stay long enough for those things to be in place-

"Vanessa?"

She made her mouth move as fast as possible to make up for the awkward space she'd created. "Yes. I can manage it. But you'll need time to recover. While you heal, I'll work on the arm and then it's just attaching and adjusting after that."

"How long is that going to take?"

" _James._ Running away with half an arm is not how you're going to protect my family. Stay until I can complete the work."

He leaned back in his chair, anxiously running his fingers through his hair, which she noticed got more tangled each day. She had the sudden urge to tie it up for him so it was out of the way, but now was not the time for that. Instead she had to convince him to stay for the 5th millionth time. This time he didn't say anything in response but she felt his silence meant he understood.

"Well, we should head home. I've got some things to plan if we're gonna get this done this week." She pushed herself up from her chair and began to gather her things and noticed he was looking out the window again. He kept doing that, his mind somewhere far off.

"Not until after your date."

She stopped in her tracks. She'd completely forgotten about her date. Now she wished she'd never scheduled it. She was on edge, as much as she tried to deny it and she didn't want to leave Roman.

"I'll be there if they need me, Vanessa. Nothing is going to happen to them."

She stared at him, unsure of how to express her gratitude and the comfort those words brought to her. "Thank you. But maybe I should reschedule with him-"

"Go. See how things play out."

 _Odd way of putting it._ But maybe she was overthinking the coolness in his tone. Of course he would be indifferent to the date. He'd never stated any interest in her personal life, only when it pertained to the here and now. She shook her head.

"Right. I guess I'll go then."

Their eyes met and she smiled at him. But she noticed his eyes did not hold the same warmth. In them was something closer to agitation with an intensity that stated his words again, but this time with more of a challenge. _Yes, let's see how things play out._

She didn't know how she felt about that look. But she knew the answer to that one would come.

* * *

James stood leaned up against the kitchen counter as Marcy fixed his dinner beside him, humming quietly. The sound of the chopping knife hitting the cutting board was oddly calming to him. She diced some onions and threw them into a hot pan, the savory aroma rising into the air within seconds as they sizzled and caramelized. His stomach knotted as it growled loudly, letting everyone in earshot know just how hungry he was. If Marcy heard it she didn't mention it, so he stood in silence, silently embarrassed with himself. To distract himself he pondered on how Marcy was becoming more comfortable with him. She'd invited him into the house when they'd arrived home, saying he could wait for dinner in the house and tell her what he liked and didn't like in his meals. But really there wasn't anything he wouldn't eat.

When he didn't have any suggestions for Marcy, she had just shrugged and immediately made herself busy gathering ingredients for the meal. She didn't ask him to leave or shoo, so he'd stayed put, watching her cook. Vanessa had scurried off to her room to get ready for her date and Roman must have been playing quietly in his room because he didn't hear a peep from the kid. So he stood, leaned against the counter, wondering about Marcy's new warmness towards him and the events that had passed earlier in the afternoon.

He was relieved to know Vanessa had been contacting Shuri this whole time. Despite past conflicts with her brother, once the ties were mended, he'd grown to respect the King of Wakanda and his family. They were an honorable people and their home had been a beautiful expanse of culture and forest. But they hadn't stayed long. Shuri had wanted to help him but Steve didn't want to risk Stark coming to look for him there and then having Wakanda revealed and discovered. They'd keep that secret a little longer.

But something else was nagging at him and he found it annoying. Because it wasn't a feeling that should belong to him. But it kept coming back, this protectiveness over Vanessa. It extended to her family but not in the same way as for the woman herself. He knew he shouldn't have followed her again, but he couldn't help himself. He'd been itching and pacing all morning until Marcy caught him and casually suggested he go into town. Though he assumed her intention had to be anything but casual because she had no business to do in town...but why do him that favor? Did she know about this feeling? Sometimes he felt the older woman could read his very soul. He hated that of course, but this was her house and her property he was staying on, so if she wanted to read him, she had every right to.

But he realized he'd only felt this feeling once before-with Steve. He was the only other person that he'd been so familiar with. But even that relationship was strained at the moment. They'd once had a stronger bond but since his brainwashing days, the details of their lives together were fuzzy. He couldn't remember things right, couldn't laugh as easily anymore. And Steve had changed too of course. They had to adapt to their new lives but the transition was anything but easy. They protected each other just like the old days and James was thankful for Steve getting him here. But he felt isolated and no matter how hard he tried to deny his human want to connect-he still found himself seeking human connection. And he hated that he was actually warming up to Vanessa.

It wasn't a romantic feeling. Those days were long past him and he didn't look for that comfort in anyone, anymore. But it was the beginnings of a friendship. She was blunt but compassionate. Book smart, but also emotionally intelligent. She was the balance that so many strived for and he admired her for that. His stomach suddenly twisted into a knot- _And people crave that balance, James._ Charlie. He didn't like the guy. He was the adventurous, flaky type. Attractive? Sure, and he knew women loved the mystery. But they also wanted to tame it and contain it. There was a challenge in a guy like that, wanting to be the one woman who could get him to stay. He knew it because he used to be that guy. He rolled his eyes internally. He'd been such an asshole….

What he wondered, is why Vanessa was so excited about the date. She tried to pretend that she wasn't, but judging by how long it was taking her to get ready, she was. He figured a woman with her past and intelligence could see all the pitfalls in a guy like Charlie. And he didn't want to be rude, but he didn't seem like the type who would want a kid in the picture. Vanessa herself was a catch but men tended to skirt around the idea of children. Or they wanted kids that were their own. He understood the feeling and he wasn't a total fan of Roman himself, but for very different reasons. He didn't trust himself with such fragile, little humans.

He didn't want her to go. He knew it in every part of him. It wasn't safe and it wasn't the time for it. She wasn't ready, he could just sense it. Sayid's memory still lingered all over her, even though it had been 7 years. He must have been a good man to stay that long with her. But Marcy was pushing and insisting it was time for her and he tried not to let that irritate him. If Marcy was as intelligent as she came off, she knew Vanessa was holding back as well. And now she was rushing, headlong into a date with the first guy suggested to her. He knew she'd done it to save his exposure to Marcy but the woman had seen his battered hand and hadn't said a word to him. Vanessa didn't have to pay along anymore...and yet she was, willingly. But what did it matter? He didn't have to care. He growled underneath his breath and Marcy gave him a side eye. He looked away, not wanting the woman to read him for another second, and pushed himself off the counter.

"Mom, does this look okay? I don't want to be too overdone for tonight…"

At the same time, Marcy and James turned to look.

She looked...different. He didn't want to stare but it was hard to look at anywhere but her. It was the first time he'd seen her hair down and it fell elegantly, just above her hips, smooth and straight with a little curl at the ends of it. The color of her dress was an emerald green and the richness of the color suited her skin tone perfectly. He noticed the green in her hazel eyes popped with the color choice and she'd used a dark shadow on her eyelids that gave them a smouldering look. Her lips were colored with a burnt orange that was subdued, but sexy. In fact, her whole look could be described as that. Sexy and subdued. It wasn't too much, or too little. It kept one looking at her a little longer than appropriate. A technique, Romanoff liked to use with men-just enough glam to keep the eyes in the room following her. Their eyes met and he fought the intense urge to look down at the floor. He didn't want to be caught admiring her, but it was even more obvious if he looked away. So he stared right back until she dropped her eyes down first.

"Well?" She asked tentatively.

Marcy cooed next to him with delight. "Vanessa, you look absolutely lovely."

Vaness rolled her eyes and awkwardly shifted her weight, trying to get the attention off of her. It wasn't working. He noticed she was wearing heels. The boost in height was nice. She must have been a little shorter than him now, just under his chin…

"James, what do you think? Don't you think she looks nice?"

James snapped out of his thoughts as Vanessa scolded her mom. "Mom, stop it. He doesn't care about this stuff, leave him alone!"

"The color...it's very stunning on you. And your hair...it looks nice down."

Marcy and Vanessa stared at him in silence. He hated every second of it but he didn't want to be rude. She did look nice and he didn't want her to feel insecure about the outfit.

Vanessa blushed, and her embarrassment gave him the smallest amount of pleasure. He remembered the days when he could do that to any girl he wanted. But this time he was being genuine.

"Well, thank you, James. I haven't worn it in awhile, and I was worried the dress would be outdated."

The way the dress hugged her curves, he doubted it could ever be outdated. But he didn't say that of course. He heard a little patter of feet enter the kitchen and watched as Roman stopped mid-trek when he laid eyes on his mother.

" _Woah, Mommy_." His wide eyes took all of her in with amazement.

Marcy burst open with laughter and Vanessa giggled, scooping him up into her arms. "What do think, buddy? Like what you see?"

He touched her face, a small smile creeping onto his pouty lips as he noticed the makeup and lipstick and traced it with his little fingers. "Uh-uh. You are _beautiful."_

The emphasis of his words had them giggling all over again and James stood watching the small family enjoy the moment. And instead of feeling a pang of loss, he felt this warmth creep into his chest as he watched. He looked away, trying to get rid of it, telling himself he would never have this but his heart wouldn't let up. He liked them, this family that hadn't even existed in his life until 2 weeks ago. They were growing on him. _But would it just be more to lose in the end?_ A thought for another day.

"Well, I better get going! It's almost 6:30...can't keep a date waiting." She winked at Marcy and handed Roman off to her. She rounded the corner of the kitchen, looking for her keys and purse and without a word, James followed her. She'd just slung her purse over her shoulder when she turned around. He held her peacoat open and she looked at him quizzically but didn't protest, as she turned around and slipped her arms into each sleeve. She whispered the quietest of 'thank yous,' under her breath as she pulled the collar closer into her neck.

"You're welcome," He murmured back. He circled around her until they were face to face. He could tell she was nervous, her eyes darting all over, trying to read him. _Just like her mother._ He allowed himself the smallest of smiles at that thought. He gently took her right hand and turned her palm facing up. He dug into his pocket, retrieving his small gift and he dropped the small circular clip into her palm while she squinted at it. He kept his hand over hers as he looked her in the eyes.

"You already know what this is, because you made it. One of the best trackers made for S.H.I.E.L.D." Her eyes glowed with curiosity and wonder, but she stayed silent. "For my sanity...take it. I know it's just a date. But I want to heed Shuri's warning." She nodded in response and he felt bad leaving her on a grim note. "But also….enjoy yourself tonight. I wouldn't worry too much."

She gave him a small smile, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thank you. I know they're in good hands with you here." She leaned in and gave him a small peck on the cheek before flashing him one last smile and heading out the door. He watched from behind the screen as she got into her car and drove away and he stayed there until he couldn't see her any longer.

Marcy cleared her throat behind him. "Dinner is ready. Will you be joining us?"

He shook his head without looking at her. It was beginning to sprinkle outside. Rain always gave him a bad feeling.

"I'll eat in the garage tonight. But I won't be far."

"Suit yourself. We won't be far either."

He bowed his head as he heard her walk away. Now all he had to do was wait.

* * *

 _Bella's_ was as classic Italian as one could get out in Dorset. It looked like a small place from the outside, but once you stepped in, you were greeted by candlelit dinners, the smell of marinara sauce and always the busy, buzz of conversations being held. The place would be packed on a Monday. As she stepped in, she breathed in the delicious smell of garlic bread as a waitress skirted by with a fresh loaf. Her stomach gurgled and she blushed, promising it that she would eat good tonight. She looked around and smiled awkwardly at the hostess, wondering if he was here yet. Just as she opened her mouth to say something to said hostess, a familiar voice greeted her from the left.

"Glad you could make it."

She turned and there was Charlie, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a baby, blue button up with a fitted sport coat. She loved how it fit him in the shoulders, and that his look wasn't too over the top. Just honest-and attractive. As she looked at him, she was reminded of how tall he really was. How had she missed him all these years in their little town of Dorset?

He looked at the hostess and placed a hand on the small of her back. "She's with me."

The young girl nodded her head vigorously, her eyes locked with his, completely starstruck. She laughed to herself and thought, ' _Me too, girlfriend.'_

He guided her to their table which was set in a quiet corner of the place. ' _Good for conversation,'_ she noted. She had lots of questions to ask. He pulled out the chair for her and she was silently delighted by his manners. She couldn't remember the last time a man had done that for her. As he pushed it in, he leaned into the nape of her neck and whispered in her ear.

"You look lovely tonight, by the way."

A shiver went down her spine. She _really_ hadn't been on a date in a long time. _Girl, keep your cool._ She tried to keep her voice even as she whispered a 'thank you' back. As he sat down across from her, she gained back her confidence and grinned.

"You don't look too bad yourself. You clean up well."

He laughed with ease. "That's what my Aunt said. I think she might make this my new uniform for the shop. I will admit, fancy dinners and button ups aren't always my idea of a good night, but I can make exceptions."

She smirked. "Well, why didn't you say anything? I would have been fine with a diner date. I don't like getting dolled up all the time, either."

He leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows. " Really? Well, then I count myself very lucky to enjoy you in this state. It's not bad at all." His eyes lowered for a second as he took her in, but only long enough to be polite. "How about we do breakfast at a diner for our second date?"

Now it was her turn to raise the eyebrow. "A second date? You don't even know how the first one is gonna go."

He shrugged, an easy smile coating his lips. "I have a good feeling."

Their waitress walked over then and asked them for drink orders. Charlie insisted their red blend was incredible and oddly enough, in all her years living here, she'd never tasted it. So she agreed and they swore to the waitress they'd actually start to look at their menus.

Once they'd ordered, a silence fell between them. She didn't want to just jump right in and badger him with questions. But she she fumbled within her mind of how to bring conversation around naturally. And then there was the matter of what she would share tonight. She knew she had to tell him about Roman. But she couldn't read how Charlie might react. Was he a family man, or did he go where the wind took him?

"You seem distracted."

She snapped out of it and met his gaze with a nervous laugh. "Sorry...I guess I don't know where to start." She looked up at him tentatively and he gave her a gentle smile.

"Vanessa, I know this isn't your first go at things. I don't want to assume anything about you, but my Aunt did fill me in a little bit. But I wanted you to be the one to tell me-if you feel comfortable."

Vanessa released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She wondered what exactly his Aunt had 'filled in.' Did it include Sayid? Roman? Did she even want to tell him all of it? Suddenly, she thought of James and his last words to her before she left, the tracker he'd placed in her hands…. " _I want to heed Shuri's warning"..._

She shifted in her seat, ready to take a leap of faith. "Well, how about we start with what you do know, and I'll fill in the blanks." She hoped her ease convinced him she was relaxed. She didn't feel it on the inside.

He tilted his head and gave her an amused look-he knew she was throwing it back on him, but he shrugged and accepted it. "Okay. Your husband passed. You were living in New York but when he died, you came home to be with your family. Then, as you told me in the shop, your father passed about a year later. And you never returned to New York."

 _Okay, he didn't mention anything about Roman._ Should she bring him up? She was so protective of her little man. She never wanted him to be used as bait or feel threatened. But what if he'd asked around and did know about him, and was testing her to see if she'd be honest…

"All of that's true. My husband served in the Army and was killed overseas on a deployment." Translation: _He'd been a S.H.I.E.L.D agent recruited from the Middle East. He had died in an overseas mission, but none that had involved the U.S Army…_

"I'm sorry to hear that." His voice held a genuine sympathy and her heart wanted to believe it, but maybe tonight was a night for half-truths. "How long ago did all of this happen?"

"Seven years ago."

He nodded his head in thought, biting his bottom lip. People always had a hard time finding words to say to her about the deaths in her life. Most of them apologized, others got uncomfortable, but Charlie…

"Do you miss him?"

She chuckled, surprised. "Yeah...I do. It's hard not to. But seven years...I don't think he'd want me to look back anymore."

His eyes softened. "I guess it makes this whole process kind of weird, doesn't it?"

She really laughed this time. "It's so weird. I feel like every man I've gone out with wasn't even close to being prepared for my baggage. I think most people want a fresh start with a date. Not a widow with a-" She stopped herself short and shot a worried glance at him, hoping he didn't notice.

"-A what?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, nothing." She stuttered. "Just an emotional past."

"Hmm." He was bobbing his head and eyeing her. Her heart was racing with panic. "Well, if it's okay with you, I don't mind. And I'm still set on a second date. Just prepared that I ask a lot of questions."

She sighed with relief on the inside. Too close. "I'm okay with that. Though, I may not always give you the answer you want."

"It'll keep things interesting, then….so what did you do in New York? What do you do now?"

She told him the truth, explaining that she had been a biomedical engineer and she'd worked with a prestigious company-she used the name of another company, protecting her connection with S.H.I.E.L.D. She went on about her life in the city and how she had missed it, missed Sayid, and that it was hard to move back home, away from friends and work. But she knew she needed to be with her family and ultimately it had been just what she needed to heal. Through all of this, Charlie listened and only interjected when he wanted more details on something. But he wasn't pushy and she appreciated that and it did make her feel a little safer with him.

He paused to wipe his mouth with a napkin but eyed her plate as he did so. "You haven't even touched your dinner."

She glanced down and noticed she really hadn't taken more than a few bites. "Oh geez...I was talking your ear off and forgot. It's okay I don't mind it a little cold and leftovers are always great."

He shook his head like that wouldn't do and waved over their waitress. "We'll have them warm it up-I'm sure you still have questions for me and I'll give you a break to eat."

The gesture was sweet and she let their waitress whisk her food away to be warmed. Charlie was still focused on her and looked like he was itching to ask her one more thing. She smiled at him knowingly.

"Go ahead and ask-my break will start when the food comes back."

He breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief, playing it up. "Oh thank God. You're such an interesting woman, it's hard for me to not ask you more. But I have to know...why did you never go back? Surely your Mom doesn't need you around and she sounds like she's in good health. It just seems like you miss the busy life."

She paused before answering, wondering if she really did miss that life-or if it was just complete with Saiyd. And now she had Roman and dragging him from this quiet life into the city just didn't seem like a good plan. She didn't think she would love it anymore, the city, the sights, the work…. _But then again, you were very excited to take on James and repair his arm…_

"It's true. My Mom doesn't need me. In fact I think she would love me out of the house. But I don't think I could love the city and work as much as I used to. I wonder if having Saiyd is what made it so great for me. And working in the mechanics shop...it's my other passion. I grew up watching my Dad do it and I'm starting to think a quiet life might not be so bad."

She gauged his reaction-was he into a simple life or did he need more?"

He shook his head at her, smiling but there was something else in those eyes. "I don't know if I believe that."

She was physically taken aback. "What?,"was all she managed to get out.

He repeated himself. "I don't believe that. That you want a quiet life. I think you want peace, and that I understand. But who says that life you had, can't be resurrected? It will be different without Saiyd, but it can still be fresh and new. Maybe you don't work for the same company or you live on a different part of the island-"

"-I don't think you understand. I was reminiscing my past but that doesn't mean I want it back. Circumstances have changed, I can't just leave-"

His voice was filled with excitement as he cut her off again."-What circumstances? Your mother is fine, I'm sure she wants the best for you-"

Their waitress cut in then, as Vanessa's meal was placed in front of her. She quickly asked if there was anything else she could do, which Vanessa replied with a curt "no," and she left them. A tense silence settled between her and Charlie.

He broke it first. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put anything on you. I just thought you may have wanted some space to dream...and maybe no one had given you the chance to do so yet."

She nodded slowly, willing the anger to seep out of her bones. She was a spitfire, and it could be hard to let go of her emotion. "I appreciate the thought."

He pursed his lips. "Can I explain myself a little?" She nodded. "I thought I'd be stuck here my whole life. I never dreamed that I'd be traveling to all these exoctic places to find rare gemstones and jewels. But I only got there because someone pushed me. And I just thought-I'm sorry, this is so stupid-Vanessa, you are an incredibly intelligent woman. I think anybody can see that when they meet you and I didn't mean to insult you. I mean, I had to know who the woman with car grease on her cheek, was. But I overstepped just now. And I know it's a first date...hoping I didn't ruin it, just now."

She gave him a small smile. "I don't think anything has to be declared 'ruined.' And I appreciate the thought towards my future. I would have gone back if it was in the cards for me-I know I would've. But you have to understand, that wherever this goes," She referenced the both of them, "I'm not in a position to leave. I like my life here. And if that's not exciting for you and you need to go-"

He took her hands in his with a soft smile. "Vanessa. Let's not get too far ahead, here. Just know I'm sorry and I know where you stand now. And besides, I'm thinking about sticking around for awhile. I don't know when I'll head back out into the world, or if I even want to."

She chuckled nervously to herself, shaking her head."Intense first date, am I right?"

He laughed as well. "I know. My fault completely!" He threw up his hands in surrender. "Reminded to never step on your toes again!"

She swatted at him. "Oh, shut up! This is going pretty well compared to my other dates."

"Hey, you have a lot to sort through, I understand. And you're not looking for a flippant relationship, are you?"

She blushed. No, she was not looking for a one night stand. Just hoping to find another partner for life, no big deal. "Yeah...if we're going to lay everything on the table, I'm looking for something a little more serious. And I just really want to get it right."

His eyes were shining again, in that mischievous way. "I like that about you. You should choose carefully. I'm hoping to be in the running."

She giggled, not knowing if he was serious or not. "You're really something, Charlie. Not what I expected."

"Probably not expected at all!" He gave her a wink and leaned in. "Now, you better dig into that meal before it gets cold for a second time. I should probably tell you more about myself if I'm to be a serious candidate for Miss Vanessa Harjo."

She grinned at him, scooping up some of her pasta dish. She didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

He felt like he had been sitting in the garage for hours. He felt separated from time itself while he was in there, pacing back and forth, watching the monitor that was honed in on Vanessa's location. The little red, blinking dot hadn't moved for awhile. She was at _Bella's_ , just like she said she'd be. But to him that meant nothing. If Charlie was a threat, he'd have already sniffed out the tracker and removed it, placing it somewhere in the restaurant to fool anyone looking for her-in that case only time would tell. He couldn't worry yet, until she'd been gone a suspicious amount of time. But then there were other things to consider….the date could finish at a normal time, but what if she didn't come straight home? Was she the type of woman who'd sleep with a guy on the first date? _No._ The woman was flustered so easily with him, he couldn't imagine what she was like with Charlie. Definitely not an overnight girl.

So now it was a waiting game. He kept thinking he should have done more reconnaissance on Charlie, but that was pushing it. Vanessa was also a grown woman who could make her own choices. He just wouldn't forgive himself if his choices entangled her into his mess. The stress of it all made him ansty just standing around, so he decided on a quick shower to distract himself. He'd check the monitor again when he got out.

The shower had helped distract him for a little bit, but as soon as he got out and got dressed, he awoke the computer to check what was going on inside the house. He glanced at the time and 8:15 glared back at him. _She'll be coming home soon._ He looked at the four split screens and saw the house was quiet. No one in the kitchen, no one in the hallway, no one- he did a double take while glancing at the living room but smiled when he saw Marcy passed out on the couch, a magazine seconds away from sliding of her lap. Her mouth was agape as she slept and he could hear her snoring lightly over the sound of the TV that was still on, casting a blue glow over her. Roman must have been put to bed earlier and she finally had some peace and quiet.

He sat back into the computer chair, thankful that the house was peaceful and under no threat. And as soon as Vanessa was home, he'd go to sleep. _With one eye open of course._ He'd check to see if she was still at Bella's one last time before he came obsessive over it-though it might've been too late for that….James froze to the spot, as his senses prickled with alert. He hadn't heard anyone come in to the garage but he'd suddenly felt a presence. Someone was here with him. He slowly turned to face the door, his muscles ready to spring to action.

But his heart was put to rest as his eyes locked with a tiny, 7 year old boy standing in his doorway, with a stuffed rabbit under one arm, and a children's book in the other. His big brown eyes blinked at James curiously.

"Hey…," was all James managed to get out. How was he supposed to talk to this kid? He certainly wasn't going to coo over him like Marcy and Vanessa. But he didn't want to talk with him and besides he hated the way that kids looked at him, with those blank expressions you couldn't read…

Roman suddenly started walking towards him and James went stiff as the child clambered up into his lap and sat facing him, his huge eyes the only thing James could focus on.

"Did Mommy give you a hug, yet?"

Did he also mention that he'd never understood these tiny human's train of thought? He was panicking more every second. "Uh...what?"

"Mommy said you don't need hugs because you like being alone. Is that true?"

James blinked. _Ah, what the hell_. He'd just go with it. "Um, I do like being alone."

"So you don't like me, here?" The kid asked, plainly. As he did, he began to lose his balance and lean backwards. James' arm flew to secure him and steady him back on his lap. He anchored his one good hand underneath the kids arm and decided to awkwardly hold him there until he could figure out a way to get rid of the kid.

"I like you just fine."

"Oh. So can I give you hugs then?"

James bit his lip. _Go with it, go with it…._ "Yeah. You can give me hugs." He quickly added, "Not right now."

"Ohhhkay. Um, excuse me? Can you please read me a bedtime story? Grammy fell asleep but I can't sleep without a story."

James eyed the book clasped in his little fingers. Everything about him was so tiny and fragile. And he smelled funny, like soap and sweat but also this sweet scent, that he couldn't identify, that made one want to tuck him in closer. He'd watched Vanessa pick up Roman before and bury her face into his curls, smelling him, and the sweet smile that spread across her lips when she did. But maybe that was just motherly instinct. What was it about children that made you want to scoop them up, and keep them close? He didn't know what he was feeling, looking into Roman's large brown eyes, his long eyelashes casting sleepy shadows over his cheeks. But something told him he needed to read that bedtime story.

"Okay...I'll read you a story. But you have to go to bed after that."

Roman nodded his head. "Can we read on your bed?"

James sighed, easing Roman back onto his own two legs. "Sure, kid."

Roman had no problem crawling into his bunk and crawling under the covers. He waited expectantly for James to join him. _Oh, boy. This was gonna be fun._

James gingerly joined him on the bed, trying to leave some space between the two of them, but Roman seemed to sense that James didn't want to be too close and proceeded to close the gap and hug his arm. This kid really knew how to make himself comfortable. He handed James the book, which read " _Goodnight Moon."_ Well...he'd made a promise.

He opened the book and stared at the first page, a rabbit in a rocking chair looking back at him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd read a children's book. They were quirky little books but kids seemed to love them. A memory flashed in his mind of a sweet little girl with golden curls and blue eyes looking up at him with such admiration. And he held a book between his two human hands, making up silly voices for each of the characters, her laughter filling the whole room as she begged for one more chapter. And then like that, the memory faded.

A small hand patted his cheek, bringing him back to reality. "Your face is wet, Mr. James. Are you sad?"

James touched his own face and was surprised when his fingers came back damp. Tears…..but why? He quickly wiped them away.

"I'm sorry, bud. I'm okay. Let's read your story, alright?"

"Okay." He snuggled into James again. "But make sure to do all the voices like Mommy does."

He looked down at the kid and smiled softly to himself. He wasn't the girl with golden curls, but he still had someone to read to. He'd take the moment as a little gift, a nod to his past.

"Alright…. _In the great, green room, there was a telephone and a red balloon…_ "

* * *

The lights were still on in the house when she pulled into the driveway and she tried not to be annoyed by it. She just hoped it meant that Marcy was up late watching TV and that Roman was in bed. Because if he wasn't by now, there'd be hell to pay in the morning…

After turning off her lights and hopping out of the car, she squinted to see if any lights had been left on in the garage. There was only the dim light from James' room. She'd have to visit him before she turned in for the night. He'd probably been waiting for her return-to know she was home safe, of course. And she'd assure him, Charlie wasn't a threat. In fact, she was still floating on cloud nine as she walked towards the house. It had been an interesting date, not going how she thought it would, but still successful. She liked him as much as she wanted to deny it. He had a a boldness about him that had swept her off feet and made her a spitfire at the same time. She couldn't decipher which feeling was stronger, her love for him or her want to challenge him.

As she pushed open the screen door into the living room, she stopped short when she saw Marcy laid out on the couch, her head thrown back and her snoring loud enough to wake the dead. She tiptoed the rest of the way into the house as she tried not to giggle and wake up her mother. After hanging up her coat, she grabbed a throw blanket to cover Marcy with, tucking her in for the night. She turned off the TV as well and resisted the urge to take a picture of the scene. With a quick kiss on the forehead, she whispered an, "I love you, Mom," and retreated to her own room.

As she passed Roman's dark bedroom, she decided to pop in and give him a goodnight kiss as well. She knew she ran the risk of waking him up, but she'd missed her little guy. She cracked the door open and slid inside, but she was only halfway to the bed when she realized there was no Roman in it. The covers had been thrown back to reveal an empty bed. " _Oh, no,"_ was her only thought. She took a moment to breath and press down the panic. He could've crawled into her own bed, he did that sometimes. She rushed to her own room and flicked on the lights. Empty. She checked the bathroom, the closets, the kitchen, each turning up empty. Now the panic was really dialing up. She glared at a sleeping Marcy on the couch, ready to ream her out. But before she did, she had one last place to check.

She marched out to the garage, keeping her emotions stuffed down until she knew for sure that Roman was gone. She rounded the shelves and practically ran to James' room. The door to his room was open when she entered her work space, but it was oddly quiet. She hurried over to the doorway, but stopped there when she saw the two of them.

Roman had snuggled himself into the crook of James' arm and was fast asleep, his chubby cheeks puffing in and out as he softly breathed his sleep. James had also passed out, his arm protectively wrapped around her son, as he snored softly. A copy of " _Goodnight Moon,"_ rested on James' lap, a sure sign that Roman had begged him for a bedtime story. She laughed quietly to herself, not even believing what she was seeing. She didn't even know how it was possible! James-angry, confused and oh so troubled James-cradling her toddler in his sleep. They were such an unlikely pair and yet...here they were. She almost didn't want to wake them. In fact, she knew she didn't want to. She leaned on the doorway instead, a smile permanently painted on her lips as she watched the two of them sleep side by side. Her heart was doing that stupid pittering again, the more she looked at them. But she couldn't help it. She'd always dreamed that she'd come home to Saiyd and Roman like this, tucked in their bed. And she'd join them, giving them each sweet kisses on their forehead. _This._ This is what her life was supposed to look like. Instead, the man in the bed now was no more than a stranger. She hardly knew him, but she longed to know more. And it put her heart in quite the predicament.

He'd leave them, she knew he wanted to. This moment was just a fluke-it wasn't how he actually felt, he had just wanted to be nice to her kid. But a part of her heart wished it was true. That he would feel more...but feel for who? She tore her eyes away from them, biting her lip. What was she doing to herself? One minute she was on a date with Charlie and in the next, she was dreaming of James. She'd been pressing the feelings down ever since he'd arrived because she knew that road only ended in misery. He was convinced he wasn't safe for her family and yet this moment-it only seemed to prove that he was capable of more. Capable of feeling something….for her? Is that what she wanted? She shook her head. _No._ That was selfish. But she did want him to be happy again. She wanted to prove that if he could let her small family in, that in learning to care for them, he'd see he wasn't the monster from his past. That he was a good man with a good heart who deserved a second chance at a more normal life. But maybe he didn't want that anymore….

She looked back at them and sighed. What did it matter? Nothing was going to happen between them, that was for sure. And she couldn't convince him of something he didn't want to hear. So why spend time worrying about it? James' arm would be fixed and then he'd be off. That was that.

She crept over to the bed, her new resolve placed firmly in her heart. She gently sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over James, as she reached for a sleepy Roman. He didn't protest, but that was only because he was deep in sleep-and heavy. She struggled to grip in the right place. The last thing she needed was to wake up James as well. She huffed and dug her arms under Roman one last time, preparing to lift him up, when a deep voice rumbled in her ear.

"What are you doing?"

She froze. She hadn't realized it until now, but her whole upper body was smushed over James' chest as she'd tried to get Roman out of bed. She was acutely aware that her boobs were not just lightly touching, but fully pressed against him in this position. She was hot all the way to the tips of her ears.

"I'm so sorry," she squeaked out. "I was just trying to get Roman."

James moved beneath her and she cringed at the friction it was creating. He glanced down at Roman tucked into him and looked just as surprised as she had been.

"Oh."

"Yeah. I'm sorry he was bugging you tonight." She turned towards him, hoping she could create some space between the two of them, but with the bunk above them it was hard to move and she only ended up face to face with him instead. Their breath mingled, they were so close. His eyes were so alert from just waking up and they moved over every part of her face in a matter of seconds. She didn't breathe for a few solid moments as she waited for him to break the silence. She tried not to look him in the eye, but she ended up looking at his lips instead. She quickly bounced her eyes up, feeling her face rush with blood.

"Do you want me to move him?"

She snapped out of it. She was definitely just imagining the tension between the two of them. His matter-of-factness proved that point.

"Um...maybe? He's really heavy."

He began to sit up without warning, pushing them closer together. She didn't realize how much weight she'd been putting on him until he was no longer there to support her. She fumbled forward, but somehow James caught in her time and held her up.

"Careful," he whispered.

There they were again, centimeters apart and her heart pounding like crazy. He was so close, she could just- _Remember you resolve. He doesn't have feelings for you or your family, you're just making it up…_ She quickly pulled back and put space between them. "Thank you."

He nodded, then glanced at Roman. " I'll carry him into the house for you."

She blinked at him. "But you only have one arm."

He rolled his eyes. "I could pick you up with this one arm. Trust me, we're fine."

She had followed him into the house as he had effortlessly one-handed Roman and slipped him into his own bed. She was amazed that Roman didn't stir once and happily curled into his own covers once placed in his bed. She looked at her sweet boy, sleeping soundly and smiled-he'd have lots to tell her in the morning. She let the door click behind her as she pulled it shut, leaving just her and James once again.

"Thank you for doing that. I'm really sorry about him bothering you like that, I'll talk-"

"- _-Vanessa_."

She stopped and peered at him sheepishly. " _I know._ 'It was no problem, you're fine'...or something like that…"

"He's a good kid."

That surprised her. "Yeah...he is."

He nodded, letting another pause settle between them. "Was the date, okay?"

Oh God, the date. She hadn't even thought of it once since looking for Roman. She rubbed her forehead trying to recall it. Her brain had been filled with thoughts of _another man,_ one who happened to be standing right in front of her. "Yeah, it was nice. We got to know each other a little bit."

"That's good. You trust him?"

She sighed. "We'll see. It went well but I'm not going to read into it too much yet."

He studied her and she looked anywhere but his eyes. "Your son told me I need hugs."

Her head snapped up to see James smiling at her amusingly. "Oh, my-this kid! Yeah, um, he thinks everyone needs hugs. You don't have to hug him back, he's a little weird about it."

"Maybe he's right."

Her mouth almost gaped open but she grinded it shut. The Winter Soldier...wanted hugs?

"Are you being serious? It's hard to tell with you sometimes."

He smiled at her gently, heading towards the door. "Sometimes kids are right. But, I'm not gonna keep you. I know you need to sleep."

She didn't know that she was going to walk towards him but her feet carried her to him. She hugged him from behind and squeezed him tight, pressing her face in between his shoulder blades and breathing in his scent. He was warm and sweet and the smell of sweat lightly clung to him, but she didn't mind. He didn't try to get away or move. Instead he gently rested a hand over her's.

"James, I'm really thankful you're here. Thank you for looking out for my family. I know it's not your job and you got way more than you bargained for when you came here...but thank you. And you should be hugged...every once in awhile. So this is from Roman and I. And even Marcy."

His breathing was even and slow and she worried she'd offended him somehow. He eventually unwrapped her arms after a moment and slowly turned to face her. He smiled at her with his mouth, but his eyes told her he was somewhere else.

"Thank you. I'll see you in the morning."

She nodded, trying not to show her embarrassment as he turned and walked out the front door. As the door closed behind him, she released a pent up breath and banged her forehead with her palm, cursing her stupidity. A hug? That was her genius idea? And it was obvious he had hated it. He didn't even mention it before he left. _Great, I've officially lost him. He is definitely going to pack up tomorrow and leave._ She threw up her hands in surrender and retreated to her bedroom. She really did need some sleep to wash this off.

* * *

He watched her from the outside as she threw up her hands, exasperated. He'd wanted to say more and he knew he'd left her with lots to wonder. But he didn't know _what_ to say. There had been that moment on the bed, when he'd woken up and their eyes had met. In those few seconds, he could see the swirl of emotions in her eyes, the way her eyes had dropped fast so he couldn't read them. But she hadn't been fast enough. He was more than just a patient under her care. She was actually starting to feel something for him.

He kicked the gravel in the driveway, letting a spray of rocks hit the garage door. _What was he doing here?_ He looked up at the sky, a few stars shining amid the clouds and the air damp from the earlier rain. He was getting wrapped into way more than he had bargained for, just like Vanessa had said. Her hug confirmed what he already knew was happening. First the interest in his arm, then her mother warming up to him and Roman quick to follow….of course her heart was betraying her. And he felt responsible. He couldn't be that for her, he couldn't give her the normal life she was craving or companionship she was now ready for. He thought she was hesitant to go out because she didn't feel ready to date again. But the truth was somewhere in the middle. She was ready, but only for the right person-and he could not be that. He cared for her, yes. But in the protective sense. He wasn't reliable for the long term. He'd always be on the run, always anxious to keep moving….He felt the pressure to do so now, more than ever. This family didn't know him, and a week wasn't enough time to truly know and trust another.

He trudged into his bedroom and stooped down to fall into his bunk. As he laid across the mattress, trying to let sleep pull him into unconsciousness, a single thought swirled around in his mind;

 _What would happen if he let his real feelings show, too?_


	9. No Sense or Sensibility

Chapter 9

She was mindlessly swirling scrambled eggs in the pan, when a familiar deep voice rumbled behind her.

" Good morning."

She didn't jump this time, or have a gasp stuck in her throat. In fact, this time, she'd been expecting him. But that might be due to the fact that she'd been thinking about him all night. She looked halfway over her shoulder at him and mumbled a good morning back.

"What brings you into the house?" She asked nonchalantly, though she really was quite curious. He never came into the house unless invited.

"I thought I'd help with breakfast or at least pick it up so you don't have to make the trip out to me. I know you have to get ready for work."

She turned and gave him a small smile. "That's thoughtful of you. But you know I really don't mind bringing it out."

He nodded but started to move towards the coffee pot. "Do you mind..?"

"Not at all!" She finished for him. "I hope I've been making it strong enough." He chuckled to himself quietly and the sound made her tingly from her toes to the tip of her nose. It was such a nice, but rare sound from him. "You call it coffee, I call it motor oil."

She laughed with him, this time. "That's how my Dad liked it in the mornings...black and bitter." He shrugged. "I can put up with that."

The floors began to quake as a very grumpy seven year old stomped around the corner. She'd been dreading this moment all morning. Roman had woken her up at six in the morning, jumping on her bed an declaring it was breakfast. He'd actually made quite a few declarations and demands, but Vanessa was not putting up with it.

"Roman, why don't you sit at the table and Mommy will bring over some scrambled eggs and toast."

He crossed his pudgy arms and she knew it was not going to be a fun morning. "I don't want scrambled eggs." "Then eat your toast."

"I don't want toast."

"I don't care. It's what I made and we're gonna eat it. If you don't eat breakfast, I'm not taking you to the summer program."

He begrudgingly sat down at the table while she served him, and she hoped that was the worst of it. She glanced at James who looked appalled by the whole exchange—he was finally experiencing a child at it's worst. And she was curious to see how he'd take it.

She turned her back on the both of them and began to pile her chopped ingredients into the blender for her morning shake. But she didn't miss the pile of scrambled eggs that went flying over the table and landed with a disgusting splat on the kitchen floor.

Switching to her mom voice, she turned on Roman who was mocking her with an impish little grin. He wouldn't be smiling for long.

"Roman. Michael. Harjo. If you throw your food one more time—". "Mommy it slipped."

"It did not 'slip' from your fork, all the way into the kitchen. You will pick that up right now and finish your breakfast."

James cleared his throat beside her and busied himself by pouring the freshly made coffee. Roman puffed his bottom lip out defiantly.

"I don't want to." She sighed, her hands resting comfortably on her hips. "Okay. You're not going to the summer program today."

And just like that Roman switched from mildly irritating to a wailing, sobbing puddle in his seat. James' mug hung just below his mouth, frozen as he watched this meltdown unfold. Vanessa threw up her hands in exasperation and turned on the blender to drown out the noise. She looked up at the ceiling and mouthed, Why God, why me?

She knew she was being a terrible mother in the moment, but she was already on edge. She knew Roman was just tired and that things had been out of whack for the past two weeks with James here and his mother's attention divided. And she was stressed with the pressure of repairing James' arm and not getting emotionally attached to his presence, which had already gone south anyway and this meltdown was the cherry on top for all the reasons he should leave….. Everything was finally catching up to the both of them.

The blender finally stopped and she was surprised by the silence that followed. She peered over her shoulder and was shocked to see James sitting next to Roman with a napkin, dabbing away the crocodile tears and speaking to him in a low, calming voice. She couldn't hear what he was saying but Roman was nodding in reply through his tears and sniffling. After a moment the mumbling between the two of them stopped and Roman engulfed James's huge frame with his tiny arms. James received it and while she could tell he felt awkward, he still rested his one arm over Roman's back, giving him one or two pats before he pulled away. And then, like he'd loved scrambled eggs all along, Roman scooped the rest of his breakfast down and munched on his toast.

Not wanting to be caught gawking at the two of them, she focused on her shake and poured herself a glass. James wandered back into the kitchen in his silent way and she decided right then and there they were going out. Not like, on a date. But there was something she'd meant to do.

"James, I don't have work today." She looked over to him mid scoop with the scrambled eggs.

"Oh." Was his only response.

"So I thought we should go out and get you some new shirts. I feel bad that you have to keep wearing the same things over—" "I'm fine with that—"

"Well I'm not. And we don't have to spend a lot, we'll go wherever you want and buy whatever you feel you need. I know you still have to pack light for when you leave," She pushed the thought away as soon as it left her lips. "But I really want to do this for you."

He set down the spatula he was using and nodded, slowly. "Okay. We'll go. But what about my…?"

His arm, right. Well his one anyway. It would definitely get some looks and there was a possibility that they'd run into someone they knew….but she had an idea.

"Don't worry about it. I got it covered."

James was surprised when they'd hopped in the car and Vanessa still hadn't told him what they were going to do about his obviously missing arm. But she didn't seem worried about it. She hummed along to the radio contentedly but the two of them were silent other than that. It didn't feel like a tense silence. But it was beginning to feel like an awkward one.

They'd left Roman at home with Marcy and he still wasn't allowed to go to the summer program—he'd held up pretty well when Vanessa had confirmed that, his quivering bottom lip the only sign that it still hurt his tiny soul. But James had given him a small thumbs up and he'd straightened up and hugged his mother goodbye. The two of them had an agreement, one that he was surprised Vanessa hadn't inquired about.

She was flighty this morning, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel, her bottom lip chewed and worn. And her proposal to go shopping had come out of nowhere. But maybe she was nervous and trying to channel her nerves elsewhere. After all, it was this weekend that they were attempting to correct nerve damage and possibly put the skeleton of the arm back on. He was antsy himself, ready for the procedure to be over with. And ready to have both arms again. He'd made do with one, but there were days when it threw off his balance, his brain telling him something was still there, but reality reminding him it was gone.

Apparently Vanessa had been working on the vibranium for the arm but she'd been spending less and less time working in the garage the past two weeks. He wondered if she didn't like him being there, in which case he'd just find something to do while she worked. But a small part of him wondered if she was delaying things on purpose...because of how she was beginning to feel for him.

She hadn't really looked at him all morning. She'd referenced him and been her cheerful self, but he could tell she was being reserved. Maybe it wasn't even about him. She could still be thinking about Charlie and he may have misread any tension between the two of them altogether. He huffed and adjusted in his seat, Vanessa giving him a quick glance. He had many talents; wielding weapons, using his body as lethal weapon and destroying enemies within minutes. But reading a woman was not one of them.

"You okay?" He could hear the hesitation in her voice. "Yeah. Where are we going?"

She turned her wheel and parked them in a spot. He hadn't even noticed them pulling into the small plaza.

"We're here."

She rehearsed the plan in her head one more time. If we see someone I know, I'll just explain that's he's an old friend of my husband's staying in town for a little bit. The reason he was staying was because……

That was the blank she couldn't fill. An old friend visiting for a weekend or even a week was acceptable. But over a month? That was suspicious. But she could come up with something on the fly. She'd have to.

She looked up from her focused, straightforward gaze and saw James nowhere in sight. It was worse than a shopping trip with Roman. At least when her son wandered off, she could hear him playing with trucks in the toy aisle. But James slinked off without a sound and left no clues on where to find him.

She pushed her cart around the men's clothing racks and luckily, as she turned a corner, spotted the man. He was rifling through t-shirts, a scowl wrinkling his features and making him more scary than usual. By now, Vanessa recognized it as one of his many 'normal' expressions.

"That color would look nice on you. That navy blue one."

He glanced her way only momentarily before throwing her pick back into the pile.

"I don't like it."

She raised an eyebrow. "We've been here 30 minutes and you haven't liked anything. Do you want to try another store?"

"No."

Something was up. She watched him carefully as he scanned the store with hooded eyes and a clenched jaw. He rubbed his fingertips together in a circular pattern, a twitch she'd seen him do before. Her first thought was he was anxious. But his eyes told her he was absolutely pissed. As he stalked away from her, her eyes were drawn to a mannequin wearing a long sleeve, quarter zip in a deep shade of green. She liked it and the material would hug his build nicely. If only she could get him to try something on….

And then it clicked. She knew what was bugging him.

"James!" She hissed. He scowled over his shoulder at her as she scooped up a couple shirts and hustled to catch up with him. A little out of breath, she caught up and smiled up at him—while trying not to be discouraged by his glaring gaze.

"I think you should try some of these on."

"I don't like the colors."

"Okay, what about the texture? This is a nice, breathable material, you like that right?"

He shifted awkwardly. "I guess…"

"Good. So if we can find a color you like, you'd get this, right?"

"Vanessa, I don't want anything—"

"James," She rested her hand gently on his arm. "You have to stop thinking about what it looks like now."

The look on his face was telling enough. A small part of her was satisfied to know she'd finally read him correctly, but she knew it was really a lucky guess. The plastic mannequin with two arms was the real hero.

"Listen, by the end of this week you'll have an arm or at least most of it. I promise you that. You'll be looking at two arms in the mirror in no time."

She watched him carefully, suddenly wondering if she'd overstepped but then he took the bundle of shirts from her grasp.

"I'm sorry Ness, I—"

 _Ness_? The nickname hung in the air between them and she blinked, wondering if she'd heard him right. He cleared his throat.

"Vanessa," He corrected himself. "Sorry….hearing your mother call you Nessa…."

She would never mind being called Ness. But the nickname brought a whole slew of emotions with it, most of them definitely not appropriate to unpack in a department store. The last time she'd been called Ness, was by a handsome man with chocolate curls and devilish smile—Sayid. What was frightening was it still had the same effect on her as it had seven years ago. If it was possible, her heart would have melted into a gushy puddle.

"Uh, no, it's okay. I totally get it. Um, so…..do you want to try those on?"

He nodded, probably thankful for the distraction and walked toward the nearest dressing room as she let out a long breath. She had a lot to work through with herself if she was ever going to succeed in not falling for the man.

He really hated the fact that he was bothered by his appearance—it was such a petty thing to worry about and it had left him vulnerable in front of Vanesa. But wanting to put it behind him and not linger on his emotions with the woman, he agreed to try some things on. But too soon he realized what a chore putting on and taking off multiple shirts was.

Vanessa cleared her throat outside the door. "Everything all right?" He sighed at his reflection in the mirror. He currently had a shirt half off. His arm was getting tired as he'd tried to shimmy his arm in and out of shirts for the past five minutes. At this point, he'd given up halfway through.

"Do you need help?" He rolled his eyes. No. He did not need help from the women who he continuously created awkward spaces with. Ness??? Where the hell had that come from? Recalling it embarrassed him off even more—Vanessa had passed on her fumbling curse to him. Now he got to be the one who said and did dumb things around the other.

The door whooshed open and he actually jumped. Which he recovered from quickly before spinning around and pinning his perpetrator to the inside of the stall. Vanessa's hazel eyes flared back at him, but she wasn't frightened.

"James, get off me!" She hissed. He immediately dropped his forearm pressed against her neck. "Who else but me, would barge in right now?" He growled under his breath and waited for the adrenaline to sap away. She examined him with an annoyed look while he looked her over to make sure he hadn't bruised her. She'd taken the hit pretty well. He was actually amazed at how fast she'd recognized his attack and instead of resisting him, she'd flowed with his momentum, guiding herself to the wall and then braced for impact. She'd also raised her forearm to block his from connecting to her throat but she hadn't been quick enough and he'd pushed it aside. He hadn't realized until now that she might have had defense classes. It would add up with both her and Sayid being a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. It oddly thrilled him that she had the ability to spar if needed. But that wasn't important right now.

"Are you okay?" She rolled her shoulders back. "Yeah. Let's hope no one saw that."

He hadn't thought about how that may have looked. "I'm sorry. I'm a little on edge today." She raised her eyebrows. "A little? Look, I'm sorry I barged in. But you weren't saying anything so I didn't know what was going on. But it seems….like you might need some help.'

He gave up trying to look stoic with one arm still in a sleeve and the rest of the shirt pulled up around his neck.

"May I?" He shrugged and she gingerly raised his arm and began pulling the shirt up and over his head. Only problem was, he had a good couple inches on her and she was already all the way up on her tip-toes. He bent his knees and arm and with one more tug, Vanessa let loose a triumphant, "Ah-ha!" ….And then pitched backwards.

He caught her just in time, though it was clumsy with only one arm. She gripped his shoulders to steady herself and the two of them shared a breath as their faces were only inches apart. He tried not to be aware of her body pressed against his bare chest but the sensation was flooding all of his senses.Where he had edges, she had curves that seemed to fill his spaces like a puzzle piece. She was so warm and tiny in his arm, which was bent around her back and gripping her hip to keep her balanced. He ignored how his fingers twitched to press harder into her skin and feel the softness of it. The smell of her soap and shampoo kept washing over him, driving him crazy. Why did it smell so good?—it was literally making his head spin. Or maybe it was because he was using all the muscle in one arm to keep her up.

He straightened up and let go of her as soon as she was steady, avoiding eye contact all the while. He tried to shake off the moment, but it was lingering still with Vanessa so close.

"James..?" He snapped out of his trance. "I think I'm done for the day. I like those shirts. And the pair of jeans fit fine."

She nodded and they looked each other in the eye, but neither of them kept the contact long. She picked up the shirts and he grabbed the jeans.

"Um...you can get a shirt back on, right?" Shit. He'd actually forgotten he was still shirtless. He knew he could but it would be a struggle. Vanessa could help him, but it would just be another head spinning encounter which he didn't think he could handle—

"Here, sit down. I'll help and we'll get out of here faster." He obeyed her without a thought and sat down. His body didn't seem to mind this interaction with Vanessa, but his mind and body weren't in agreement at the moment. He lifted his arm while she scrunched it up and pulled it over his head. She didn't look at his face until the shirt rested comfortably on his chest. She was true to her word, finishing the job in a matter of seconds. But she was flustered and ready to go. He was flustered with himself. He knew the moment had only complicated things further. And it was his fault. He shouldn't have agreed to the shopping trip. Unfortunately the two of them were not out of the woods yet.

"Vanessa?" The voice stopped him in his tracks as he came out of the dressing room. He looked to his right and locked eyes with who other than….—Charlie. The probability was not in their favor today.

"Charlie?! What are you doing here?" Vanessa was in shock and he worried that in her flustered state she wouldn't recover well for this interaction. But he'd wait and see. Charlie crossed over to her but his eyes kept flicking back to James and looking him over. Typical male, assuming a threat.

Charlie wrapped Vanessa in an embrace that she didn't look ready for and something inside him delighted in their awkwardness.

"Well, I had the day off and I thought I'd shop around. Guess we had the same idea. But you'll have to excuse me, I don't think I've met your friend, …?"

James didn't miss the underlying tone. He also didn't miss a beat, and he put his hand forward first for the handshake. When Charlie placed his hand inside his, James made sure to give it an extra grip.

"James." Vanessa nodded her head dumbly between the two of them."He's an old friend of my husband's, they were overseas together. He's visiting for the month and I decided to show him around."

Alright, so the story wasn't bad. It would excuse his arm, as many would assume it was an injury from the war, and in some sense, that wasn't a lie. Charlie, just grinned at the explanation and his perfectly white teeth made James want to punch him right in the mouth. The guy played way too smooth to be trustworthy. He hoped Vanessa could see through him. He looked back at Charlie who was currently fascinated with the empty sleeve on James' left shoulder.

"So James, why Dorset? Funny little place to visit, isn't it? What drew you here and why for so long?" He laughed and winked at Vanessa. "All of Dorset could be discovered in a day."

James looked at Vanessa for her cue to hop in and elaborate the story, but by the look in her eyes, he knew she hadn't gotten that far. With anyone else, it would have been easy to distract them from James. But Charlie was intent on getting every little detail to make sure James wasn't playing on his territory. Which he wasn't. But he also had a strong desire to mess with the guy and ruin his chances with Vanessa.

Suddenly, Vanessa snapped back into the conversation. "James is here on research. As you can see, he had a bit of a lasting injury and he's just looking for prosthetic leads. My mother and I used to work in hospitals and still have some good connections, so we promised to help him out."

James' jaw clenched, and he knew Vanessa was giving him a nervous side glance. He would have preferred that the two of them had talked beforehand and agreed on a good excuse. Because hers was dangerously close to the truth, at the moment. If Charlie had a big mouth, and if someone really was looking for them, they'd be sitting ducks now. But what was said, was done.

Charlie's face whitened in embarrassment and James could see he believed the story. Good. At least he'd leave Vanessa alone on that front. But with James labeled as a friend, Charlie would feel confident in pursuing her. His will to stay out of things was waning.

"Well, James, you've definitely come to the right woman. She talks fondly of her medical engineering days. That should keep you busy for awhile, huh?" He directed his gaze at Vanessa.

She gave him a small smile in return. "Yeah, but only for a little bit." He could tell Charlie enjoyed that smile a little too much. "Not too busy for another date, I hope?"

James desperately wanted to leave this interaction. That was the best he could do? Vanessa laughed nervously and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't think so. I'll look at my calendar and give you a call when I have some free time."

Charlie nodded, content with her answer. "I'll hold you too it Miss. Harjo. It was good to see you. And James, pleasure to meet you."

They shook hands again, much to James dislike. Vanessa waved him goodbye and he threw her another ridiculous wink. When he was out of sight, she let out a long breath and doubled over, her hands on her knees. He watched, completely confused, until she popped back up again and brushed the hair from her face.

"I'm fine. That was a totally normal interaction. You don't think he saw me coming out of the dressing room, do you?"

He looked back at her blankly and the panic intensified in her eyes. "Are you mad at me?" Before he could answer she rushed on. "I froze when he asked me why, and I know it's too close to the truth, but I really don't think Charlie will say anything—"

"Why do you care what Charlie thinks?!" He snapped. Her hazel eyes went wide. He hadn't meant to snap but the interaction with Charlie had left him rattled. He hadn't seen the guy up close before and now that he had he was very suspicious of him. But that explanation wouldn't fly with her.

"I'm sorry...I just don't think he should have badgered you for an answer in the first place. He doesn't trust you."

Vanessa's demeanor changed instantly, the fierceness returning to blaze in her eyes. "James, he barely knows me! Of course he's nosy! We just went on a date the other night and then the next day he sees me waltzing around with a guy he has no idea about?? I think he handled it pretty well, considering."

"So what else did you decide not to tell him?" He knew he was picking a fight but he didn't care. Whatever he was feeling about her right now, he wanted to eliminate it. The more distance he put between them, the better.

She stared at him, her lips a tight line and her chin jutted up at him. "It doesn't matter. You're the one who butt in and told me to be careful in the first place. I didn't ask for relationship advice."

Did she really think that's was this was about? "Relationship advice??" He hissed back at her. He didn't want to draw attention in the middle of the store. "I said something because I was concerned for your safety. Because I'm the one putting you and your family in danger. I think I had a right to step in."

"Well you know what I find funny? You want nothing to do with my family, but then suddenly I find you in my house more, you get my Mom to do you favors and you let my kid crawl in bed with you—so much for staying out of it."

She was so under his skin in that moment that he clenched his fist. He couldn't think fast enough to keep up with her arguments. He was beginning to say things without thinking—his next sentence being one of them.

"Do you know what I think?" She glared at a spot over his shoulder, refusing to look at him and her arms crossing her body off to him. He stepped in closer, forcing her to look up.

"I think you're mad at me for the same thing you're doing to yourself. This isn't about Charlie. This is about you and me. You swore you wouldn't get attached, and yet we keep finding ourselves in these little 'situations', like the one before Charlie arrived."

Her mouth hung open and he raised his eyebrows, challenging her to tell him he was wrong. He was done dancing around it with this woman. There was an attraction, they both knew it.

"I don't think you like Charlie. It's me you want." Her body gave away her relief but her mouth was scrambling for an excuse. He could feel his own tension sapping away. But then he realized they were still ina clothing store which was no place to start talking about their feelings. He needed to get them out of here. She said nothing as he began to gather his clothes.

"I'm gonna pay for these...if you want to wait in the car." He felt a little bad, dropping that bomb between, especially because he had no idea where it would lead them. He'd never even planned on bringing it up. But she seemed to be taking it well. He didn't need a response to know he was right. She'd closed off her expressions anyway and he couldn't read her anymore.

"That sounds good. I'll be in the car." He watched her leave, her arms crossed and her body stiff with, what….Anger? Embarrassment? He hoped he hadn't overstepped. Either way the car ride home would be interesting.

She couldn't sit in the car. Her whole body was coursing with energy. She paced next to it instead as she waited for James to join her.

What had just happened? The dressing room, then Charlie showing up and James blowing everything wide open—she was in complete shock. But she knew as soon as the words had left his lips they were true. She didn't know how Charlie played into the equation yet, but James…..he'd become more than a mere distraction in his few short weeks here.

But she barely knew him, which made her feel completely stupid. What was she even basing her affections on? The way he looked? The mystery of him? But she knew that James didn't always reveal himself through his words—it was his actions. The tender way he'd handled Roman in the morning, the way he softened her mother up by practically doing nothing. As opposite as he was from her family, he was fitting in and she couldn't help but think that maybe…. She'd never been mad at him for making himself at home. She was just mad at herself for taking the fantasy too far and believing, well, that he might fill the void where Sayid had been. She wanted to him to stay but that had never been the deal.

The doors whooshed open and she locked eyes with James but his eyes quickly shifted to the ground as he came up to the car. Was he regretting his decision? She couldn't tell. He opened the driver's door and threw his bag in but he didn't climb in. Instead he looked at her expectantly. She bit her lip, feeling all the questions and emotions bubbling up inside of her. She wanted to spit them out all at once and throw a tantrum, screaming how unfair it was for him to drop the truth like that. And in a sense, that's exactly what she did, just less screaming.

"Can we take a walk? I can't get in that car with you right now." He nodded and she immediately stormed ahead of him, leading them towards the town park. There was a trail that would lead there, taking them through a little wooded area where it would be secluded enough for them to talk. He followed silently, keeping her pace comfortably which annoyed her because it felt like she was power walking but to him it was an easy stride.

Finally she couldn't take the silence any longer and she spinned around in the middle of the trail, coming face to face with him. And she let the questions fly.

"What happens now, James?" She took in his face, which was completely blank, frustrating her even more. Looks like she'd be sharing first.

"Look, I admit it, I started to do this thing where I imagined a man in my life again to replace Sayid and I know that can't be you, but things got confusing. Or maybe I just misinterpreted things but—how do you feel? Is this all me? Because if it is, I'll apologize and I'll let it all go, I can stop feeling—"

His mouth cut her off in a crushing kiss that literally stole the breath from her lungs. But she didn't care. All the tension and the anger melted away instantly and she gripped his shirt instinctually, deepening their kiss. His hand anchored itself on her hip, his fingertips digging in as they had in the dressing room earlier—she hadn't imagined that. She pulled her lips away only long enough to catch a quick gasp before his lips enveloped her in another passionate kiss and another and another….until finally her stupid conscious reminded her they were in the middle of a public trail making out.

She pulled away, severely out of breath and her body a quivering mess. She seriously hadn't had a guy kiss her like that in a long time. He'd kissed her. It finally sunk in and she felt like her head was going to explode. What did it mean, did he—?

"Vanessa." She looked up at him completely bewildered, but the calmness of his expression gave her some comfort. "What—what was that? Are you messing with me?" She could tell he was trying not to smirk. "I'm not messing with you."

She shook her head. She didn't believe him. "But why...how? You never showed any signs, I mean you encouraged me to go on that date with Charlie! And now you're kissing me?! James I'm too old for this shit, I'm 26, I can't just be making out with complete strangers—"

"Vanessa." She stopped spiraling and listened, his face serious this time. " I wouldn't say I'm a complete stranger."

"Then what is happening?! Please just explain that. You're not a stranger, but what do I really know about you? Are we just gonna make out and then not address that it changes everything?"

He paced past her, a scowl starting to pass over his face. She knew he hadn't thought any of this out. She understood. She'd definitely wanted to kiss him back but this was no little act to brush over.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I wasn't thinking about the aftermath...I just wanted to know…."

She watched him, waiting. Words failed him and he looked to her. "If there was something between us." She finished for him. He nodded. "Well is there, James?"

He titled his head looking at her with curious eyes and she tried not to fidget under his observant gaze. Finally; "If I say yes, that makes things pretty messy between us, right?"

She bit her lip, nodding in agreement. He took a couple slow steps toward her, keeping his eyes on hers as he came close. "If I say yes, that means that your family is still in danger and that things with Charlie aren't gonna get easier. If you're in for the long term, then that's makes this interest serious—and I respect that. But you may learn things about me that are dark and unsettling...and they still come back to haunt me. Vanessa, I think this is more than complicated—it's nearly impossible. And you're willing to go through all of this for some chance we might work?"

She stared him down. "You trying to scare me, Barnes?" His lips twitched. "You might like me better as a stranger."

She smiled, a boldness welling up inside her, finalizing her decision. "But what's the fun in that?"


	10. Memory Lane

Chapter 10

The tools clacked in the tray next to him as she arranged them in the order of use. Or in this case, the invasion of all the tiny little nerves in his arm. He stared straight up at the ceiling, refusing to look anywhere else, as he worked on calming his breath. He tried to forget that there was a strap pressing against his forearm and abdomen and the two straps that crossed over his shins. They were precautionary measures. Vanessa and Marcy had worried that while he was under he may fall into another one of his nightmarish flashbacks and react while still being under. Or worse, wake himself up—both were probable. The dose of anesthesia that they'd need to give him was nauseating. Being slightly superhuman meant inhuman doses of anything. Which was fine with him, just not when it meant he'd be unconscious.

A soft touch on his arm brought his mind out of the welling anxieties. He pulled his gaze from the ceiling and looked into her hazel eyes.

She smiled at him gently. "This is gonna be done before you know it. You won't be under long, I've got nimble fingers and steady hands." She wiggled her fingers at him, a sweet and encouraging smile on her lips.

But he could only muster a slight twitch of his lips and a nod in response. She immediately squeezed his hand, the pressure of it calming to him. There had been a lot between them the past two days since their confessions and shared kiss on the trail and most of it had yet to be resolved. But once the surgery was finished, things would start moving fast. He really had no idea where the two of them stood but he knew he cared for her deeply and that her safety was of utmost importance to him. But right now, he felt completely useless and defenseless, strapped to this chair.

"Does it remind you of when—?'

"Yes." It would always remind him of HYDRA.

She sucked in a breath. "Should we be doing this? I don't know what to do if…"

"Do you still have a lethal dose of that serum you gave me...when we first met?" The memory almost brought a smile to his lips. The woman who had guts to come up behind him and press a gun between his shoulder blades.

But Vanessa was not smiling. "I do. But I don't want to use that on you. I'd rather save it for an actual enemy."

He smirked. "Glad I'm not the enemy anymore. I wouldn't want to mess with you."

Her frown wouldn't budge. "James, this isn't funny. The truth is I haven't performed a surgery like this for awhile and there are so many things that could go wrong."

She looked at him nervously but he kept his expression calm. "Vanessa, I was sent here because you were the next best thing for me. Clint vouched for your work and your own files speak volumes. If anyone is going to do this, it's you—there is no one else."

She bit her lip, a sure sign that she was caving in. "I can save your arm but I can't save you from this," She let her hand brush gently over his forehead. "I know this setting can stimulate a trigger for your flashbacks. I don't know what you see, but..." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a smooth, flat stone and she placed it into his palm. "I noticed you have a little twitch when you get anxious. Your thumb moves over your fingers, like this?" She demonstrated the circular movement and he recognized it immediately. He used to have a stone that he would brush over to calm himself when he was the Soldier—he only did it when he was completely alone. It had been a technique that had grounded him for a long time. But for her to even notice….he had no words and was feeling a little choked up—much to his dismay. He nodded and closed his fist over the stone.

"Thank you. This will help...a lot."

She offered him a small smile back. "Good."

The garage door swung open and Marcy entered, dressed in a pair of light blue scrubs. She was carrying a small tray of needles—the anesthesia. She raised her eyebrows at him strapped into the chair. He knew what she was thinking; would the straps actually hold? Even he didn't know the answer to that.

"Are we ready to get started?" She looked to Vanessa. Vanessa looked to him.

He sucked in a breath and nodded, squeezing the stone in his palm. "I'm ready."

The last thing he saw before going under was Vanessa counting back from 10, her lips moving but no sound coming through. Everything blurred in his vision but he focused on those hazel eyes, clinging to that vision like it was his last hope. As his eyelids finally drooped shut he repeated to himself, " _She'll be there when you wake up, she'll be there when you wake up….._ "

"I'll be here when you wake up."

His cruel lips turned into a smug smile as he towered over James—no he was Bucky now. Without warning, the Nazi doctor jammed a needle into his bicep and Bucky screamed. The needle pierced into the flesh of his left arm and within moments he passed out whimpering.

This time he was in his own body. He wasn't observing as a third person—if only he could be so lucky. Those flashbacks were more bearable. But now he felt every needle, stitch, cut or bruise and the sweat that dampened his back. He was back in 1943, a captive of the war. Brought to a compound to be experimented on, as HYDRA hoped to create their own version of the Captain America serum. Only, they were a lot more invasive with their techniques.

He woke up in a cold sweat, panting for breath in the unbearably humid room. The air was heavy and sickly—it carried the scent of death and he was sure that some of the others beside him were long dead. He moved his head side to side, anticipating the doctor's promise that he would be there when Bucky woke up. His arms pulled against his restraints in his panic, but they barely budged. They were so tight they were cutting into his wrists and leaving blisters where the skin had been worn away. The only relief in this dark pit was that the doctor was nowhere in sight.

He slowed his breath and tried closing his eyes. His body was so beaten and tired that it begged for sleep but when he closed his eyes, it was only minutes before he'd wake up again, drenched in sweat. It was better to keep your eyes open as long as possible and let them shut when you couldn't keep them open any longer.

But being awake was its own nightmare. At first he'd tried to think of hope, that someone would come to rescue them or better, they'd get themselves out of here. But as he watched his regiment quickly dwindle in numbers, his hope went with them. Their screams and cries for their loved ones haunted him. They were going to die here if someone didn't come soon. It made him wonder why he was still alive—all of the soldiers here had as much grit as he did. And yet he was the only survivor again and again through all of the experiments. A cruel joke—deemed worthy enough to live, but living only to suffer.

"Is anyone alive?"

The voice croaked from somewhere off to his right. He was so exhausted that it hadn't startled him. Often the survivors would mumble to themselves or whisper prayers to God to save them. He decided a conversation would be better than waiting for death in silence.

"I am." He choked back, as a coughing fit rattled his lungs.

His new friend waited until the coughing died down. "What's your name?"

"Bucky Barnes. You?"

"Drew Wallace. Barnes, huh? You're part of the 107th regiment, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I'm from the 91st…..We were supposed to be backup for you guys, the day you were captured. We came too late and didn't leave fast enough."

"You didn't know what you were walking into. We had no idea either." Bucky thought is was interesting how talkative the young soldier was. They must have not experimented on him much.

"What do you miss the most?"

The question caught him completely off guard. It seemed like thinking about all the things he missed would only be painful and yet his mind yearned to go there, to dream just a little.

"I miss the sun for one thing. I could bake in sunshine until I burned to a crisp—anything would be better than this damp hell-hole. And damn, I could go for a nice cold beer, right about now."

Drew chuckled. "Aw, I miss the bar and those silly girls you could twirl around all night. I miss dancing, and I was a terrible dancer."

Bucky couldn't believe the laugh coming from his lungs. It had been so long since he'd laughed. "If you twirled 'em fast enough, you could kiss them before they had a chance to find their balance."

Drew scoffed. "That actually work?"

Bucky grinned to himself. "You said yourself they were silly girls. I could get away with it most days."

Drew let out a short laugh but the desolation and hopelessness of their situation began to creep back in the form of silence.

"You think we'll ever get out of here?"

Bucky stared into the darkness, taking a deep breath. "If we ever do, I'm buying you a drink and getting you the prettiest girl in the room to dance with."

Drew didn't laugh this time. "I'll take you up on that." He said quietly.

The door to the lab flew open and startled them both—but Bucky made no sound, reacting quickly and pretending to pass out on the table. He knew the lights would be flicked on and if he slowed his breathing just enough, they'd leave him alone...or so he hoped. He forced himself not to twitch as the lights came up.

"This one." He heard the officers make their way to a body and he fought the urge to tense up. But the steps stopped short of him to his right and Bucky went cold—they must have stopped at Drew.

"Patient 94, still breathing—"

"Does he have signs of the rash?"

Bucky's mind raced. 94 patients? How many more had been experimented on and had died in the process? He heard Drew cry out as they rolled him over examining him for signs of "the rash."

"Here, Sir. Spots, on his lower back."

The doctor tutted. "Useless." There was a silence and Bucky didn't dare breath.

Then he heard the sickening crack.

He wanted to bolt up and destroy them all, breaking all of their necks or putting a bullet in each of their heads. He grit his teeth so hard it felt like his jaw bone would crack—just like Drew's skull had. There would be no cold beer in bars as hot as Hades or silly girls to twirl around and snatch kisses from. Only the unworthy deaths of honorable soldiers.

"What about that one? It doesn't look like he's stirred yet. Dead?"

A pause as they looked over to him—he could feel their eyes boring into his side. The doctor's boots clicked on the floor and it seemed like an eternity before they reached him. Suddenly, cold fingers pressed against Bucky's throat and checked for a pulse. A gasp stayed stuck in his windpipe and he didn't swallow it.

"He's alive, " The doctor declared.

"Any rash?"

Fingers roughly prodded his side and back, looking for lumps, but Bucky already knew they would find nothing.

"He's clean—the serum took?" They sounded hopeful.

The doctor chuckled, a low and menacing sound. "The first part took. No reason to get eager yet. When he awakes, send him to the upstairs lab. I want to have a closer look at him."

"Yes, Sir."

"You're dismissed." Their boots clacked off and the doctor's footsteps followed closely behind them. After a moment, waiting to make sure they were gone, he released a shaky breath, angry tears rolling down his cheeks as he mourned for Drew. He balled his fists and bit back an angry howl—he did not want them coming back, he'd kill them if he laid eyes on them.

"Very good, Sergeant Barnes. Use your anger." The heavy German accent made his blood boil. He knew that voice. He'd heard it long ago, but where…?

He furiously pulled against his restraints trying to get a look at the man when the fluorescent light hanging above him flickered on and revealed the toad before him, his tiny frames gleaming with the reflection of light as they rested over his beady eyes.

"You," Bucky growled through gritted teeth.

"Hmm, yes it is me. Dr. Zola. I am surprised you remember me. It was really your friend I was familiar with." The doctor had been present for Steve's transformation and was responsible for delivering information on the serum to HYDRA and probably much more that Bucky didn't know about..

"Oh, I didn't have to meet you to know what you are."

"A traitor, yes, I've heard the insult before. But some would say I am loyal to the higher, and far greater power of the world, HY-"

"And yet you could never get the serum quite right, could you? All of these innocent bodies are proof of that. A higher power that has to copycat it's designs to achieve anything. Hardly any originality in that, don't you think?"

Dr. Zola thin, pasty lips spread into a wide smile. "Your loyalty is navie and pathetic. Stark is a genius but still needs the hands of others to perform his work. It is his own ignorance and self-interest that blocked him from seeing the true operation. He handed each piece of his puzzles to us without a second thought because he believed everyone worshipped him. We do not worship a man but salute to a higher cause and thought. And your Captain cannot overcome that. He may cut off one head, but—"

"—Two more will take its place. I've heard the HYDRA orientation bullshit before, thanks."

"So be it. But I am not concerned with your opinion, only your use. I find it interesting the serum took to your body. How fascinating would it be to have you used against your own friend, Steve Rogers?"

Bucky's stomach knotted. "If the serum somehow miraculously works, that doesn't mean you can control my will."

"Are you so sure about that, Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky didn't actually know what HYDRA was capable of but he wasn't going to die or be used believing they had the upper hand. Luckily, he didn't have to respond to this eyesore because alarms were sounded. Dr. Zola's beady eyes flickered to the door.

"We will have to continue this conversation later. I look forward to seeing the progression of our serum in your veins—and the possibilities it presents in the future. Welcome to HYDRA."

"Kiss my ass," He grumbled under his breath as Zola buzzed himself out of the room. Two soldiers entered upon his exit and smirked at him.

"Time for your transfer," they announced.

"What's the rush?" Bucky eyed them and noticed one of them kept clenching their fist. He was clearly nervous, so Bucky decided to taunt him. "You worried about something? Shouldn't be...I mean you're HYDRA, the greatest power in the world—"

He should have seen the other soldier's hand swiping across, but he noticed too late. The palm connected with his cheek and the sound resounded off the walls. The blow left spots in his vision and his cheek burning. He may have been asking for that one. The one who slapped him, leaned in close, his hot breath washing over Bucky.

"I said, it's time for your transfer. There will be no questions." He adjusted his glove. "And one more thing."

Bucky had to have one more dig at the man. "What might that be, der Schweinehund?"

The soldier's jaw twitched at the insult but he did not respond to Bucky's disappointment. "They've asked us to use a sedative when moving you, which I considered. Until now," He grinned. "I believe we'll try another method."

As the fist came into Bucky's peripheral, he remembered thinking, no matter what they did to him, he'd never lose his will. He'd fight for justice, he'd fight to live and for the lives lost and he'd see Steve again—as friends, not enemies.

The memory morphed then, and it felt like his brain was fast forwarding, only stopping for a few seconds at critical moments. He watched the sped up version of Steve and his regiment attacking the compound and rescuing the soldiers there. Steve found him isolated in a room, barely functional and helped him walk out. He remembered thinking it couldn't be possible, that Steve had actually come, that anyone had come for them at all. Fast forward. The place was up in flames, completely obliterated and he watched, hoping Dr. Zola had been burned to a crisp in the process. But he also mourned for the men that would never get a proper burial, their remains a part of the wreckage and ashes. Steve had stood beside him and while they said nothing, he knew he was thinking the same thing. It wasn't right. But war wasn't right and it certainly wasn't fair.

His memories finally stopped their frantic race forward and they stopped on a moment where he sat by himself next to a campfire, chewing mindlessly on a piece of jerky, his face void of all emotion. He heard the brush being rustled behind him and Steve appeared a moment later, hunkering down next to him.

"I don't know if you want any, but I snuck Duggar's flask away from him. Thought you might need a drink." He held out the flask and Bucky took it gratefully.

"Thanks….you're not wrong."

A silence spanned between them as they watched the fire rise and cackle and Bucky would take a couple swigs from the flask. He knew Steve had questions, but he'd never press. The rest of the boys hollered and yelled behind them, celebrating their win. But Bucky just didn't feel like celebrating quite yet. He knew he needed to talk about what had happened within the compound.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I was scared this time." His chest tightened. " I really thought...that I might…" He swallowed hard, the fear rising up again and seizing his heartbeat.

"That you'd die in that place." Steve finished for him.

"Yeah," he answered quietly.

Steve sucked in a breath and released it. "Well, I wasn't going to let that happen. Truthfully, I've been taking every mission I could in hopes of finding you. I wasn't going to give up, Buck."

The thought was comforting. He couldn't have asked for a more loyal friend than Steve. God, he used to be such a scrawny kid…. He snorted, just thinking about it.

"What's so funny?"

"Since when do you get to do all the saving, huh?"

Steve grinned. "Since now. Now that I can whoop your butt ten times over."

Bucky took another long sip from the flask and chuckled, a relaxed smile beginning to spread across his lips. "You know, I think you're right. I'm getting older and you seem to be getting younger everyday. That damn serum of yours gives you the advantage."

Steve laughed with him. "It doesn't make me invincible, you know. I'll still grow old with you, don't you worry."

"Oh good, I thought I was going to die alone."

They both laughed and then let a comfortable silence fall between them.

'Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I saw Dr. Zola."

Steve stiffened beside him. "What did he say to you?"

Bucky shrugged. "His normal, 'Hail Hydra' bullshit. Then he told me how special I was, that the serum didn't kill me—"

"—the serum?? Bucky what did they do to you?"

He shrugged again. "Not much. Just lots of needles. Earned a couple of black eyes for this mouth of mine…"

"They experimented on you?"

Bucky waved him off. "Steve, they were just messing around, they had no idea what they were doing. Most of their attempts…." Drew's final cry rang through his mind, causing him to pause. "Failed," he finished softly.

"Do you know what they were trying to do?" Steve asked hesitantly.

Bucky shook his head. "I think they were trying to create their own version of you, which is no surprise. But they haven't gotten very far. It's one big guessing game of who will survive and I guess I just got lucky."

He could tell Steve needed a moment to digest all of it. Lucky was an understatement. Some of the men they'd rescued were in bad shape and would need further medical attention as soon as they reached camp. But beside his bruises, Bucky just felt like a tired, beat up version of himself.

"Those sick sons of bitches," Steve muttered to himself.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Careful there—you're the voice of America now, we don't want them knowing you cuss like a sailor."

Steve gave him a small smile, but he looked at him hard. "Bucky, I'm serious. Do you feel okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine. Just need some rest and some regular meals and I'll be back to my normal self."

Steve nodded. "Okay. I'll trust you on that. But we're getting you checked out as soon as we're back on base."

He put his hands up in surrender. "Fine by me. But if I do that you owe me a night on the town."

"Oh, are we dancing partners now?"

Bucky chuckled. "Hell, no. But you can bring your girl, Peggy Carter."

Steve scratched his stubble sheepishly. "I don't know about that."

"I saw her picture in your compass, you can't lie to me Rogers. If you can plow through and destroy a bunch of Nazi compounds then you can ask a girl out to dance."

"Alright, alright. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't enjoy that. But who are you gonna bring?"

Bucky winked. "Don't worry about it. I'll find her when I get there."

"You always do." Steve paused for a second, a slow smile crossing his lips. Bucky knew what he was thinking, so he beat him to it.

"You think you'll settle down after this war?"

"Stop doing that."

"What? Reading your mind? Steve, I've been doing it since we were kids. You wear every emotion and thought you have."

"So what? You know, it might not be so bad living a quieter life. I miss having a home, a place to come back to."

"You have a place. It's called Brooklyn."

Steve scoffed. "That's not home anymore."

"You're kidding me. You're going to ditch me for suburbia, aren't you?"

"Look, I know you got your siblings and your Mom, but who do I have?"

Bucky looked away, feeling a little guilty for not considering his situation. "Guess we won't be seeing each other much when all of this ends, huh?"

"You know I wouldn't want that."

Bucky leaned back and looked into the night sky, mostly concealed by all of the giant pines growing around them. There were no stars to wish on tonight.

"I don't know Steve. Maybe one day I'll find a life—or a girl—where I'll want to settle but I'm just not there yet. But hey, I'll come visit you in suburbia every once in a while."

Steve held out a hand and they shook on it. Bucky handed him the flask to take a swig from and while he did, Bucky looked over at his friend and just felt a wave of gratitude. Without the guy next to him, he didn't know where he'd be.

"It's good to be back, Steve. It's good to be back."

"James."

His eyelids fluttered but wouldn't open up. He could just make out a bright light which soon became eclipsed by a silhouette.

"James!"

Her voice was more urgent this time. Her voice? Who was she?

"Can you hear me? Come on, James. I need you to wake up."

'I'm okay," He croaked.

"What did he say?"

Another woman? Their voices were so familiar...if he could just see their faces, he knew it would all come rushing back.

He felt a cool hand caress his cheek and he turned into the touch. Her touch was so gentle and her fingers were slender but strong as she held his heavy head in her hands. He forced himself to keep his eyes open long enough to look up at her. Her features came into focus and he watched her stunning hazel eyes flicker over his face anxiously. Her dark hair hung loose and draped over her shoulder. In his dazed state, he felt the urge to reach out and run his fingers through it. But when he tried to move his arm, he felt leather dig into his wrist.

 _No_.

He couldn't still be in the compound. He'd seen Steve save him...the campfire….but why was he still tied down? The panic began to spread and he felt his body coming alive, ready to struggle.

"Woah, it's okay. It's just me, James. Vanessa. Look at me."

He stilled, remembering the hand on his cheek. Vanessa. A flood of memories rushed into his brain all at once and he winced, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't remember crying out, but he could hear Vanessa sit up from her seat, the chair screeching across the concrete floor. Was something wrong with him? He felt fine but he knew the drugs were numbing his senses.

"Call Steve."

Steve? Steve was here? Then everything had to be okay. As time settled into it's place in his mind, he relaxed and let go of the struggle to stay awake. Before he passed out, the hand on his cheek slid down to squeeze his hand. Vanessa's soothing voice pierced through the fogginess.

"I'll see you on the other side, Barnes"

Waking up the second time took all the willpower he could muster as his eyelids felt like pure iron. This time when they flickered open they were met with a dim darkness. He glanced to his left and saw a faint light peeking through the window blinds—early morning? He looked around the room and didn't recognize it as his own in the garage. But the smell was familiar...he rolled over into his pillow and breathed in deeply, the scent of her shampoo lingering. It was her room all right, but why was he in here?

He groaned inwardly as he tried to sit up, not wanting anyone to come to his aid quite yet. He massaged his right arm with his left hand, the muscles heavy but relaxed from the drugs. He hated the way his body felt after going under. He felt sluggish and groggy and every sound was muffled making him feel exposed and vulnerable. He also felt out of place in her bed and oddly embarrassed. He'd never been in a woman's intimate space before. A bedroom to him had always been a sort of sanctuary, a place to get away from the outside world for a time. This is where Vanessa slept, had her quiet time, dressed...and undressed. A part of him wanted to stay and explore because he was curious, but it wasn't his place too. So he just sat, taking it all in, his hands clasped together in his lap.

 _His hands._

It felt like lightening had spurred through his spine upon the realization. He lowered his gaze slowly, afraid and excited to see it for the first time. He hadn't even felt a difference—the hand felt like his own. It may have been metal but it felt real. He was gazing upon just the skeleton, as she'd promised. It wasn't a complete arm yet, but he flexed it, watching how smoothly the joints moved and swiveled with his movements. Wires were weaved through the metal pieces, deep red and blue jumping out at him. He smiled, approving of her choices in color. He balled up his fingers and was satisfied with how they curled into a perfectly formed fist. Before, it would have hurt him. He'd squeeze his fist and feel it all the way into his back and he'd hear the sickening groans of the metal grinding against itself. But this vibranium skeleton did not groan or squeak and was as light as a feather. He knew she was keeping it light so that when the plates were placed in, the weight of it would feel balanced and equal to his other arm.

He was amazed. He'd only had the pleasure of watching her work serveral times but he wished he'd been awake to watch her this time. She was everything Clint had promised she'd be. Intelligent, savvy, hardworking. And maybe a little bit more. His heart pounded, recalling the moment he'd awoken from the surgery and had seen her face. His visions of the Nazi compound had slipped away instantly his fear drained when he'd stared up at her. Something about her made him steady—like he had a chance at controlling his fears, his past. She had her own ghosts, but they hadn't stopped her from living a full life. She was still finding purpose in her work and his arm was proof of that.

The door cracked open and James' eyes flew to meet his guest. Slowly the door swung open and the lumbering frame of Steve Rogers entered the room. James stared at him silently, in shock to see his old friend standing before him. Questions swirled in his foggy brain. _When had he gotten here? Why was he here?_ And worse... _what had gone wrong?_

 _"Call Steve."_

He had remembered Vanessa's voice saying that. Was she in danger? Steve was eyeing him cautiously his body language stiff. He was nervous, that much he could see. James threw the covers back and stood up, hurling his questions at Steve and trying to mask his fear.

"Where is she? What happened?"

Steve blocked his path to the door, his face set in that classic determined look he wore when challenged. "Sit down for a second and I'll explain to you why I'm here. Vanessa is fine. But you shouldn't be exerting yourself too much, yet."

James didn't want to sit down. He wanted to see for his own eyes, that the family was okay. "Steve, let me see them."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed, and James could tell the comment had hurt him. "Why don't you trust me?...Bucky, she called me here because she was worried about you. You haven't stopped talking in your sleep about…." He trailed off.

James swallowed hard. He knew. "...the compound," he finished for him.

Steve nodded. "She was concerned. She's experienced PTSD first hand but wasn't sure how to handle you in case things went south."

James looked at the floor, shame washing over him. She had been in danger, but the danger had been him. That's why Steve was here.

Steve seemed to sense his shift in emotions and sat down on the bed. He watched James expectantly, but was patient. Eventually, James turned and took a seat next to his old friend.

"She did an excellent job on your arm. She took a lot of care in reconstructing it...you can tell."

James said nothing. He knew Steve was trying to distract him, but he didn't have the energy to protest.

"It's a nice spot, they have out here. Real quiet….I miss having spaces like this."

"Where have you been?"

Steve sighed. "Bum-fuck nowhere like you."

They both chuckled at that and James began to feel the tension slip away from his body.

"I remembered the two of us, by the campfire after the rescue."

He watched Steve, knowing he was trying to contain the hope glimmering in his eyes. He knew James's memories were far and between. James continued, "We were dreaming about life after the war. I don't think either of us could have dreamed up this life."

"No, we couldn't." Steve glanced at him, a small smile crossing his lips. "Though you do surprise me a bit. I never imagined you becoming a domesticated man."

James scowled. "What the hell does that mean?

Steve shrugged. "I don't know if it's the Vermont air that does it for you or if it's the people...or if it's her."

He felt his face flush. Could he deny it? The first one he'd asked about had been "her" which Steve could only assume was Vanessa. He expected there to be wiggling eyebrows and a mischievous grin, but Steve was looking at him seriously.

"Is there something there, or am I imagining that?"

James laid back onto the bed, closing his eyes, his hands clasping over his stomach—still a weird feeling, having two sets of fingers to intertwine."I'm not sure there should be something. The only reason you're here is because she was afraid."

"She was concerned for you, not afraid of you, James."

It felt odd hearing Steve call him that. He'd always been "Bucky" or "Barnes," but here in little Dorset, Vermont, he was James, his given name. Even Steve had picked up on that.

"Afraid, concerned...its all the same. I don't need someone worrying about me or being afraid of me. Whatever affection is there will fade once I'm gone."

Steve only nodded but James knew he silently disagreed. James had truthfully felt guilty saying it. He'd promised Vanessa they'd talk after the surgery—there was a lot to discuss with the kiss they'd shared and the fight they'd had before that. Some days there was an intimacy between them that made her feel so familiar to him. But on all those other days, Charlie probably knew more about her than he did. If he'd just held back and hadn't said anything, hadn't kissed her even though everything in him in that moment had wanted to….

"James, I don't need to understand the relationship between you two. It's going to be complicated with lives like ours. But ducking out of here without a word wouldn't be fair to her or any of them. She's done you a huge favor. And as your friend, I'm extremely grateful for her help. You finally have a chance to recover fully and take back what's yours. But Buck—" He paused chuckling to himself, "James, as I'm learning they call you here….I haven't seen your impulsive side in awhile. I know our job for so long has required us to be calculated and focused. But an impulse to do something—to feel something—that can be good too. You back in the day...man, if you had it in your mind, you were doing it."

James smirked and Steve continued. "You had a wild side, believe it or not. And if you can remember, you weren't shy with the ladies. Now, I'm not telling you what to do...but just don't do what I did and leave a girl hanging around for a dance that never came."

Steve's expression was mirthful but his eyes gave away his regret and pain. James was solemn as well, taking in his words and promising himself he would be good to Vanessa. He sat up on the bed and placed a hand on Steve's shoulder. He wasn't the consoling type but he wanted Steve to know he'd been heard.

Wanting to lighten the mood, he asked—"So what's your evaluation Captain—am I fit for duty still?"

Steve smirked, playfully pushing James off of him. "Yeah, I think it was a fluke. I really came because I wanted to see your arm."

James snickered. "That makes me feel better. You know I hate your babying."

Steve shook his head. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to contact us every once in awhile with updates—Natasha has been worried about you."

The information amused James. "The Widow is growing soft in her age."

"I'll leave out the part where you imply she's old and pass on the sentiment."

James gave him a small smile. He was beginning to miss the rest of the crew and a part of him longed to go back with Steve. But, there was still unpacking to be done here, and perhaps some healing as well.

"I have to leave today. You gonna be alright?"

"Just get outta here already."

Steve chuckled and stood up from the bed. "Right. No final requests?"

He pondered for a moment before the thought suddenly snapped into his mind.

"Yeah, actually. There's someone I want you to run a background check on…"

After finding a pair of jeans laid out for him, and puzzling about how he'd been asleep in only his underwear, Steve and himself entered into the kitchen to find Vanessa at the kitchen table. A cup of coffee was still steaming in front of her, and little Roman was cradled in her lap, half asleep. His bottom lip was puffing out as it always did when he was fighting sleep, his curls a tangled mess. Vanessa was still in her pajamas, her hair down and frizzy and her face void of makeup. When she smiled at them, it still reached her eyes, despite the dark circles running underneath them. He felt a little guilty knowing her exhaustion was a result of her worry.

"Mornin' boys. Coffee is on the counter."

Steve nodded and made himself busy fixing up his cup. But James couldn't be concerned with coffee just yet. He took a seat next to Vanessa, slowly easing himself into it, not wanting to wake Roman.

She raised a slender brow at him. "So, what do you think?" She jutted her chin at his new arm.

He really looked at it this time, with a clear head. He was still overwhelmed by her amazing work—with so little time and with incredible pressure, she had done it.

"It feels so real," He murmured.

Her eyes shone a little bit and he suspected it was tears but he wondered if it was just emotional exhaustion. But when she placed her hand over his metal one, a couple of them finally spilled over. She smiled through them and sucked in a shaky breath.

"Good. That's how it should be."

He pinned the emotion then—relief. It was done—the most stressful part was done. But it also meant he was that much closer to leaving.

"How long for his recovery?"

They both glanced at Steve who had asked the question and was leaning against the counter, cautiously taking a sip of his hot coffee. Vanessa pulled her hand away from his and cleared her throat.

"A week or two. I don't want to fiddle with putting plates on yet until I'm sure the nerves are responding correctly. It was a lot of work throughout his back." She glanced at him warily and he wondered what she was hiding. But Steve nodded like he understood. He looked between the two of them, scowling.

"Is there something I need to know? I feel fine."

"And you should." Vanessa sighed, stroking Roman's curls mindlessly. "You're on some great painkillers at the moment but once those wear off you'll start to feel what I'm talking about."

She was right, he didn't really feel a thing. His let his hand graze over his left shoulder, applying light pressure as he did—only to instantly regret it when he winced.

"Yeah...that's a little tender."

Vanessa nodded. "Minimal movement this week. We'll do some physical therapy as well, but this is one stage I can't rush. I'm going to wean you off the painkillers in a day or so. It's best to let your body experience the pain and work through it naturally. I can monitor your recovery better and decide if I'll need a second surgery—in case something didn't take the first time."

"There's no rush to have him back."

James eyed Steve, who stared right back at him over the rim of his mug. Fight me on this, I dare you.

James rolled his eyes. If it had been the other way around, there was no way in hell Steve would survive 2-3 weeks of "minimal movement" and physical therapy. But that was a fight for another day.

"I agree with Steve, there's no rush."

That seemed to surprise Vanessa until she squinted at the two of them suspiciously. "Soo...we're really okay with that? No complaints, or concerns?"

"Not yet anyway," He mumbled under his breath. Steve heard him and snorted into his mug but covered it up immediately— "Sorry, wrong tube."

She ignored them and continued on. "Right. Well...are you staying?" She directed the question at Steve, who shook his head.

"I gotta get back today. But if you ever need me, just holler."

Vanessa nodded. Steve put down his mug and popped up from the counter. James also stood up from his chair, jerking his head towards the door.

"I'll walk you out."

As they filed out, Steve gently placed a hand on Vanessa's shoulder.

"Thank you...truly."

She gave him one of those tired, sweet smiles he'd come to know in his quick time here. She didn't say anything back, just squeezed his hand for a moment before he pulled away. The tender moment confused him and made him wonder what had conspired during the time he'd been gone. He realized he was jealous of Steve's ease with her but he knew that wasn't what was going on here. He just had an understanding of her that James did not yet have.

In the driveway was a black Audi, an older model but stick, just how Steve liked it. The two of them stood beside it for a moment, neither of them saying anything. They were bad at goodbyes, always had been.

"You heard the woman. You're gonna need time."

"I know."

"Don't waste it."

He nodded. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"What would you do?"

He sucked in a breath, contemplating James' question. "Honestly, it's pretty unique what you have here. She has grit...and I don't think she's the type that'll shy away from your past. My guess is she has some of her own skeletons. You've always had the option to leave. I guess the question is...what'll make you stay?"

James nodded, just once. He valued Steve's opinion more his own.

Without another word, Steve took his cue and opened up the driver's door and slid into his seat, starting the car up with a roar. James watched him back up and race down the driveway until there was only dust beginning to settle back over the gravel. It was time to go back in.

Vanessa was in the living room, gently bouncing Roman on her hip when he came back in. Their eyes met and she raised a slender finger to her lips, a reminder to be wary of the sleeping child in her arms.

"Did he make it off okay?" She whispered.

He nodded, coming closer. "He'll be fine. How are you?"

She shook her head, laughing quietly. "Dog-tired but Roman wasn't sleeping well last night, so I stayed up with him. Decided it was better to keep him home today."

"Where's Marcy?"

"Returning our supplies...she may have broken some hospital rules."

"She stole—?"

Vanessa cut him off, "—Borrowed. Nothing too important, don't worry. Most of the tools were my own. I just needed the painkillers and the anesthesia."

"You don't borrow those."

"Since when were you on the moral high ground?"

Her eyes sparkled up at him with laughter, despite the tiredness etched into her face. But she reassured him, "Old connections through S.H.I.E.L.D...couldn't have pulled this off otherwise."

He nodded, studying her face again. "You should get some sleep, I can take him."

His offer took her by surprise, as she blinked hard and shook her head. "No, it's okay. You're the one that needs to rest—"

"—Do you still trust me with him?"

She searched his face, the hurt clearly portrayed in her eyes. "I never stopped."

He hadn't meant to say it, but he'd felt it since the moment he'd woken up to find Steve here. He'd made her nervous...nervous enough to involve Steve.

"James, look at me." He slowly did, embarrassed by his comment. "I didn't call him here because I was scared of you. I was scared that I wouldn't be enough. I want to know how to help you, but that requires a trust that I can come through on the other side with you."

It was impossible to think about, bringing her with him into the nightmares. He couldn't see how she'd ever love him if she knew…

"I know we've opened Pandora's box here. But you can still shut it if you want. I'm a big girl, I'll get over it."

"No." That's not how the myth worked or how'd they'd do things. Leaving without trying wasn't an option for them anymore. He reached out and slowly, Vanessa released Roman to him. Her eyes didn't leave his as he tucked Roman into his shoulder, cradling the boy's head into his neck. Roman's soft breath tickled his collarbone and the sweet smell of him washed over James. To finally hold the kid with two hands, to be able to clutch him gently but firmly enough to hold him in place...it felt unreal. But thanks to the woman before him, it was.

"I made a promise to him." He glanced down at Roman and smiled softly. "I won't break promises anymore. To him. To you. I said we'd try this and we will."

Vanessa's eyes were watery again but her smile pushed tears back from falling. "Okay," she whispered. She rested her head on Roman's back and he pulled her closer into an embrace which she didn't resist.

He closed his eyes, their breath mingling with his, their warmth shared. Holding them both there, it should've felt right. And for a couple fleeting moments it did. Until the flashback hit him, sudden and quick.

His veins were coursing with adrenaline as he swiftly brushed through the halls, silence the only thing in his wake. A drop of blood ran down his forehead and dripped over his eye but he ignored it—it wasn't his anyway. He was eager to return to his solitude and to take off the muzzle over his mouth that clung to him in the sweltering heat of the Middle East.

"Wait."

The Winter Soldier stopped abruptly and snapped his head to the right where the voice had croaked from. His eyes searched for a threat but the corridor was littered with bodies, most of them dead from the raid—not his handiwork. But at the end of it, a soldier lay propped against the wall, clutching his abdomen. He could see the wound was fatal, the bullet having pierced something vital with the amount of blood on him and the floor. A clear indicator he was beyond repair—he'd have minutes before his organs failed him. The man looked up at him, the panic settling in behind his eyes and his dark curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat, his breath shaky and fast. All soldiers were afraid of dying, no matter what they'd been trained for. They all wished for quick, painless deaths but this soldier would not be so lucky.

"Please," he begged. Tears ran down his checks unashamedly.

The Soldier unsheathed his knife, carefully stepping over the bodies to reach the estranged man. Perhaps he was begging for a slit to the throat, a quicker death.

"Please," He repeated again. He looked at the knife, shaking his head. "That's not that I want. I need…" He groaned and pressed hard against his wound to stop the pain.

"Spit it out," he growled.

The soldier shakily reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a small silver object. He held it in his bloody hand and offered it up to the Winter Soldier. Curious, he took it, examining it closer. It was a small rabbit, crafted out of pure silver, it's detailing intricate and delicate. The whole thing felt as light as a penny in his palm.

"What is this?"

The man chuckled and the sound sent chills down his spine in this corridor of death. His grip on the knife tightened, wanting to end the sound with a quick swipe to the throat.

"It's for my son," the man whispered. "I wasn't supposed to know….she wanted to wait," he sucked in another sharp breath. "But I had to know." His tears glistened in the dim lighting and the Winter Soldier watched him, completely mesmerized by this soldier's emotion. He didn't move as he watched the soldier's struggle to continue.

"She was right, you know. I thought it was a girl. It kicked like a donkey on fire—I thought it had to be a girl, fierce like her mother. But a boy..." His head rolled back and rested against the wall as he closed his eyes.

"I nicknamed him Thumper from Bambi, you know? Nessa...she got a kick out of that. Decided to decorate his nursery with little bunny rabbits." He laughed again, but this time, the Winter Soldier didn't mind it. He slowly crouched beside the man, watching him intently.

The man opened his eyes and stared right into his, the panic gone and acceptance in its place. "If you're going to kill me, I want to see the face of the man doing it."

The Winter Soldier stared him down for a moment. He didn't care for the emotional speech or for the child this father would never meet. But he could respect this request as a fair one. He didn't beg for his life or cry out to his loved ones. He had accepted death.

He slowly pulled the mask away from his face, watching the soldier's reaction but his face held no surprise or fear. He only nodded, knowing it would be the last face he'd see.

"Thank you."

His fist closed around the little silver rabbit and the soldier's eyes flicked down as he did so.

"I know we aren't on the same side. But if you could just—" he choked on a cough and his eyes began to glaze over as blood dribbled down from the side of his mouth. The Winter Soldier reached out and wiped it away, holding the man's head up as he took his last breaths.

"I'll give it to him."

The man searched his face for the truth and his chest rattled with one last intake of breath. The words had slipped from his mouth carelessly but once spoken, they were a promise. The man never stopped looking at the Winter Soldier, his eyes silently holding him to that promise until his breath released for the final time.

James never realized that in that moment he had also exhaled with the man, that his heart had been moved for the first time since becoming the Soldier. His hand left the man's cheek and he moved to flip over the soldier's armor to see the name embroidered on his chest.

Sergeant Harjo.

He'd forget the man's name. Even when it appeared on his wife's file 7 years later. He'd forget the unborn child and the silver rabbit.

He had forgotten it all until this very moment, with the two of them in his arms. And it shook him to his very core.

Was fate twisted, or was he meant to find them along?


End file.
